The Best Laid Plans
by Lady Nadia
Summary: Sequel to Who Can You Trust?   Arya attempts to infiltrate and destroy Division, but nothing goes according to plan.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Arya sipped a mojito and relaxed on the bar stool. As crazy as it seemed, Arya felt better than she had in a long time. Scheming was what Arya had been raised to do, and it felt good to get back in the saddle. Arya had spent the past six months planning her entrance to Division. From there she would destroy it.

Arya was an assassin, trained from birth by the former director of the CIA to kill for her country. Arya's existence was not documented so that she would not be subjected to any rules and could do whatever was necessary to protect the United States.

After realizing that what she was doing was wrong, Arya fled to France where she met Carlos. She began to fall in love with him until she discovered who he truly was. Carlos was a notorious Columbian drug trafficker and arms dealer. He was also a sadistic monster. He kept Arya locked away in his house for the next two years. Finally, Arya escaped but was recaptured by a frenemy of Carlos, Hassan Waleed, who had planned to sell her back to Carlos.

When Waleed was picked up by the CIA, Arya was taken into protective custody. In order to avoid suspicion, Arya lied about her childhood but told the truth about what happened with her and Carlos. Even with Arya's help, the CIA failed to apprehend Carlos but was able to destroy his criminal network. Arya then found out about the existence of Division from the former director of the CIA who was also the father of an operative involved in Arya's rescue.

Arya had suspected that after she ran away from the government, the CIA director had continued his work to create private assassins. After some persuasion, the former CIA director Henry Wilcox told Arya all about Division: an unofficial government group made up of former convicts who were then taught to kill. Wilcox also inadvertently told Arya how to destroy it.

Percy, the man who was appointed by Wilcox to head Division, had a clever insurance system which made him untouchable. Every mission that Division ever ran was recorded. If the public ever got ahold of the truth about their government and the people who did its dirty work, the country would fall into chaos. There was another organization to oversee Division and supposedly keep it from becoming corrupt, but Percy was really in control.

Confident that those in the government who knew about Division would never betray it for fear of the consequences, Percy began to take on new missions from anyone who was willing to pay. The original plan for Division to be an agency for the people had been corrupted by Percy.

Division was only partially a governmental agency. It ran operations on behalf of the U.S. government, but the real objective was to assist foreign powers in order to control them. By being hired to perform illegal tasks for other nations, Percy then had those countries under his thumb. They owed him, and Percy was a man who would call in his debts.

In a matter of time, Percy would be able to place people loyal to him in seats of power. There would be puppet governments all over the world, with Percy pulling the strings, unless someone stopped him.

Wilcox had grudgingly allowed Arya access to all of the files that he possessed, including the ones that pertained to Division. Arya was able to piece together Percy's plan without alerting Wilcox to her true intentions of destroying Division. Wilcox assumed that Arya had combed through all of his files in order to ensure that there was no paperwork about her so that Arya could disappear and restart her life without fear of being discovered.

Arya had agreed to keep in touch with three of the CIA agents who had saved her: Annie, Auggie, and Jai. Annie was a compassionate, headstrong field agent. Auggie was blind and worked with the technological aspects of the CIA. Arya had instantly felt a connection to Auggie from the moment she met him. Auggie was also the only one besides Wilcox who knew the whole truth about Arya. Jai was Wilcox's son, and Arya had gotten close to Jai in order to meet with Wilcox. Jai was a good man and a stellar agent. Arya regretted that she had manipulated his feelings.

As promised, Arya sent Annie, Auggie, and Jai weekly emails so that they would know she was alright. Carlos was still at large, and Arya knew that the agents worried about her. The problem lay in that Arya's name was in the CIA database. She knew that if Division was considering her as a candidate for their training program, they would want her history. There was no way Division would accept her if they knew that she was so closely tied to the CIA.

Division's existence depended on its secrecy. The recruits who were chosen to be part of Division had to be invisible, and Arya's CIA connection would raise a red flag. That was why Arya had come to Florida.

Max was a skilled yet paranoid computer technician who was used frequently by Wilcox to run black ops back when Wilcox was still in charge of the CIA. Arya had completed many missions with Max and was able to track him down.

Although Max lived in Miami his skin was pale because he was rarely in the sun. Max spent most of his time in his apartment or in his computer repair store beneath it. Getting Max to meet her at the bar was no easy feat, but Arya felt safer outside. The fact that Max had a crush on Arya helped things considerably.

With his T-shirt hanging off his lanky frame in addition to his baby face, Max could have easily passed for a teenager. He walked cautiously down the sidewalk, his out of style sandals flapping against the concrete. Max walked up to the bar but didn't see Arya even though he was only a few feet away from her.

"It's amazing how someone so smart can be so oblivious." Arya said, a smile taking the sting out of her words.

Max jumped but relaxed once he realized it was Arya.

"Long time no see." he said. "What can I do for you?"

"I need you to hit the CIA with a targeted virus." she said, getting right to the point.

"Are you crazy?" he cried. "I don't get involved with government hacks anymore."

"I guess you're not good enough." Arya sighed. "I'll just have to find someone better."

It was the oldest trick in the book, but appealing to men's egos always worked. She dropped a ten dollar bill on the bar and picked up her purse as if to leave.

"Wait." said Max resignedly. "I'll do it, but it's gonna cost you."

"How much do you want?" asked Arya.

"I don't want money." said Max. "I want a date."

Arya raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me."

Max shook his head.

"Please." he said, looking at her with irresistible puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. Let's start with your end of the deal first."

Max and Arya walked the few blocks to Max's computer repair shop. His friends, many of whom were also his employees, gaped as Arya walked through the door.

"Why do I feel like I'm the first woman to ever set foot in your nerd hut?" she asked.

"Well, . . ." Max began. He paused. "Why don't we go to my office?"

They entered the cramped, cluttered closet that Max called an office. A majority of the space was taken up by a large oak desk.

"You can have the chair." said Max, gesturing to the single rickety chair behind the desk.

"Good to know that chivalry is still alive." said Arya.

"I know," said Max confidently, "that your sarcastic, tough girl attitude is really just a cover for the fact that you like me."

It was true. Over the years, Arya had come to feel towards Max like a big sister feels toward her little brother: annoyed by him but equally protective of him. Not that Arya would ever admit it. Feelings were a liability in her line of work, and it was simpler to pretend not to care.

"I need you to engineer a virus that will target specific files in the CIA central database as well as files on the hard drives of any individual CIA computers. These documents need to be completely erased."

"What are the files about?" asked Max. "I'll need keywords, something to direct the virus."

"Go for everything pertaining to Carlos Mañoso, le chacal, or Arya Bellaré. That should cover it."

Max gave Arya a look.

"I thought that I was such a big shot back when I was a teenager because the government was trying to get me to work for them. After a while, I realized that the business wasn't for me. I left about four years ago. When I did, I was contacted by a man who offered me a lot of money to sell out the U.S. government. I turned him down and things started to get ugly. Lucky for me, Uncle Sam still had me under surveillance. A team came in to either rescue me or to shoot me before I could talk, and the guy ran. I'm pretty sure he was Mañoso. Really scary dude. How did you get mixed up with him?"

"It's not important." said Arya quickly. "It just needs to look like he was the one who erased the files, not me."

"What was the third name, Arya Bellaré?"

"That's right." she replied.

Suddenly, it dawned on Max.

"Arya Bellaré, that's you, isn't it?"

She said nothing.

"It is you."

"Check my passports and you'll find a variety of names." she said. "It means nothing. Just hope for your sake that I don't catch you using that name in public."

Max's finger flew furiously across the keyboard. Arya didn't even pretend to understand what he was doing. Technology had always been her weak point, and Max was in a class of his own when it came to computers. The monitor issued a series of beeps.

"There. It's done."

"I'll make you a deal." proclaimed Arya. "Do one more thing for me and I'll be the sexiest date you've ever had. Your geek squad will be blown away."

"Sure." replied Max. "Anything. And my friends aren't geeks, they're just technologically proficient."

"I need you to find someone for me."

"Done. Will you be a Russian model?"

"If I must."

"Score!" exclaimed Max, pumping his fist.

"I suppose I'll need to get something suitable to wear."

After Max finished the second part of his job for Arya, he went to chat with his friends and to help some customers in the store. Arya headed over to a nearby boutique to pick out a dress. Why not? she mused as she spotted a shiny, strapless number. She could indulge Max for an evening, and Arya could use some fun herself. After tomorrow she wouldn't be having any fun for a long time.

At a few minutes to seven, Arya headed back to Max's to change. She donned the shimmery dress and a pair of sky high stilettos that she couldn't resist buying. Stepping out of the tiny bathroom, Arya smirked as Max's jaw dropped.

"You think for such a small amount of fabric this dress would cost less." she said dryly.

"I can't wait for everyone to see this. They'll never believe it."

"Never believe what?"

"That I could get a girl so far out of my league."

"Please, Max. I'm sure you have all the ladies chasing after you. And if it makes you happy, my name is Katerina." She put on a Russian accent. "I am a model."

Max offered his arm. "Shall we?"

Max's friends were waiting as they walked into the bar. The lights from the stage lit up Arya's dress which hugged her curves in all the right places. Arya and Max joined the table.

"This is my friend Katerina."

"Pleased to meet you." she said with a smile.

The group talked and laughed over the rock music being played by the band. For Max's sake, Arya danced with him and laughed at his corny jokes. When the pitcher of beer ran low, Max volunteered to grab another round of drinks. Arya went with him.

They approached the bar and Max waited for the bartender while Arya headed closer to the stage to check out the band. She couldn't believe herself. She should be reviewing her mission, yet here she was wasting time at the bar. This would be a onetime only experience. Arya could not allow her focus to waiver again.

Arya felt a hand slide down her butt.

"Buy you a drink?" slurred a voice in her ear.

"Get lost." she snapped.

The guy was in his early twenties wearing jeans that were way too tight and a confident smirk.

"Don't be like that baby." he crooned. "Just one drink."

"Get your hand off my ass before I break it." she hissed, not wanting to make a scene.

"What?" he said in surprise, not expecting her reaction.

"I'd explain it to you, but I don't have any crayons."

"Are you threatening me?"

Arya grabbed his wrist, twisting it painfully, and shoved him out of her way.

"Keep your hands to yourself." she spat.

Max realized what was going on and rushed over.

"Are you alright?" Max asked.

"I'm fine." she sighed. "Let's get out of here."

"Not so fast, sugar." leered the drunken man. "Is this loser your boyfriend?"

"Come on Max." said Arya, ignoring the man.

She turned to leave, and the man punched Max in the face. Max went down hard, blood streaming from his nose. Arya pivoted, sending the point of her stiletto into the man's groin. He doubled over in pain. Arya leaned over him. For all anyone knew she was just helping to support her very drunk friend.

"What's your name?" she whispered.

"John." he groaned.

"Well, John, I want you to listen to me very carefully. The world would be a better place if you weren't able to have children, but I'm going to give you one more chance. If you value your manhood, you will leave and never set foot in here again. And if I find out that you've laid a finger on my friend here, you'll lose a lot more than your manhood. You'll lose your life."

Clutching his groin, John stumbled out of the bar. Arya told Max's friends that Max got a bloody nose and that she would take him home. Carefully, Arya picked up Max from the floor and carried him back to the apartment. She cleaned the blood from his face and changed his ruined shirt.

She set his nose in place and applied gauze and tape so that it would set properly. John had broken Max's nose, but he seemed to have gotten a concussion when he fell. Arya gave him some Tylenol for the pain.

"Thanks." said Max groggily.

"This is why you don't want to go out with me." said Arya. "The people around me just end up getting hurt. I have to leave. I'm going to be gone for a while, so don't try to contact me. I've never been good at goodbyes. Stay safe."

"Bye." murmured Max, already half asleep.

Even though people who had suffered concussions should be kept awake, Arya figured that Max would be fine in the morning. Arya drove her rental car to the airport and caught a flight to California. There was only one more thing left to do.

Author's Note: For those of you already familiar with the story, I'm sorry for the recap. Also, this chapter turned out way longer than I expected. The rest of the chapters will probably be shorter.

Please review and tell me what you think so far!


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Welcome to Division

In order to be selected to join Division, Arya needed to get its attention. She also needed to be arrested and jailed so that Division could integrate her into its program. After much deliberation, Arya had made her decision. She was going to kill Carlos.

Thanks to Max's intel, Arya knew that Carlos would be in California. He was a difficult man to find, but Max had the skill to hack into all available resources and the intuition to connect the seemingly random scraps of information that he had discovered about Carlos's recent activities.

Airport security made traveling with guns nearly impossible. Arya didn't have the guts for an up close personal killing, so knives were also not an option. Explosives would work nicely. Luckily, Arya knew where to go for the equipment that she would need.

During her time working for the government, Arya had amassed a mental database of civilians with unique talents who could come in handy. These individuals were used covertly by the government at one time or another as suppliers or for other forms of assistance. Once she left the government most of Arya's time was spent with Carlos, so Arya had not seen or spoken to any of these people for many years. She would just have to trust that their locations had not changed.

The plane landed at LAX Airport after an uneventful flight. The California weather was as warm and beautiful as ever, and the smog that usually hung over the area had practically disappeared. Arya took it as a good omen.

For safety's sake, Arya wanted to change her appearance to ensure that she would not be recognized. Carlos was scheduled to enter Los Angeles shortly, and Arya couldn't risk him or his contacts seeing her. In order for her plan of entry to Division to work, Arya had to remain as anonymous as possible.

Arya figured that James, the man from whom she would buy the explosives, would be more likely to sell to her if he were intimidated by her appearance. Arya was no longer a covert government agent, and without the power of the government she would need some influence to convince the man to sell her explosives. She anticipated that James would be reluctant to sell to her because Arya was planning to set off the explosives in the area, and the materials could potentially be traced back to James if Arya got caught.

A thrift store caught her attention. It was a rundown shop where Arya wouldn't be noticed. She entered through a squeaky wooden door and was surprised by the number of customers inside. Racks of clothing were lined up against the cracked, stone walls while shoes were kept in large cardboard boxes. Purses, jewelry, and other accessories were strewn about several long tables.

A flash of inspiration struck Arya as she scanned the store. She quickly gathered everything she needed and approached the cash register. The woman at the register wore heavy makeup and her bleached blond hair was piled into a formidable beehive.

"How much are these?" asked Arya, laying the items on the counter.

"For you, hon, that'll be a hundred dollars." said the woman.

Arya dropped a hundred dollar bill into the cashier's hand.

"Is there anywhere I can change?"

"Go right on back, and there'll be a bathroom to your right."

Arya entered the grimy bathroom, careful not to touch anything. She took off her top and her jeans and put on the outfit she had bought. Feeling slightly ridiculous, Arya put on the jewelry that she had purchased as well. Something was missing. Makeup.

Luckily, Arya carried around eyeliner and concealer in her purse. She did it not for vanity but because carefully applied makeup could instantly alter her appearance. Smoky eyes did the trick. Arya smudged the liner a little more and was satisfied.

She stepped out of the bathroom and made her way to the exit of the store. The cashier's jaw dropped.

Arya wore a black leather corset, tightly laced to emphasize her curves, with matching skintight pants. Fitted stiletto boots added a few inches to her height. A diamond skull pendant hung between her breasts, and her hands were adorned with many silver rings.

Arya left the shop and headed down the street. She began to embody a tough girl persona to match her outfit. Arya no longer walked; she swaggered, enjoyed the appreciative glances thrown her way.

Walking quickly in her shoes was no easy feat, so Arya hitched a ride in a taxi. She was dropped off at an auto-body shop. Arya walked up the driveway and followed the rock music blasting from inside. James was lying on his back underneath a red Chevrolet. Arya grabbed him by an ankle and pulled him out from under the car. She leaned over him, surveying him casually.

His eyes flickered from her exposed midriff to her mischievously glinting gray-green eyes.

"What can I do for you sweetheart?" he asked nonchalantly, as though this was how he was treated every day.

"Well," she purred, "you can start with ten kilos of C-4."

"What makes you think I have any?" he countered.

She pouted. With a sigh, she pulled out a switchblade.

"I hate scruffy men. You need a shave."

Arya began to trim some of the blond stubble on James' face.

"I need my C-4." she continued. "If I don't get it, I won't be happy. When I'm upset, I tend to get a little bit sloppy, and we don't want that to happen now do we?"

She slid the knife down his chin closer to his throat. Arya smirked with satisfaction as she felt James' pulse quicken.

"It's in the shed out back. I'll take you there."

"Good boy." she said, giving him a pat on the head.

Keeping her knife trained on James, Arya followed him through the body shop. With the bandana tied around his head, unbuttoned flannel shirt, and grease stained jeans James fit right in with the piles of car parts and smell of motor oil.

"I just need to stop in my office and get the key to the shed." said James.

Arya leaned against the doorframe as James went to open a filing cabinet. His face betrayed his true intentions. She threw the knife right at his wrist, pinning the sleeve to the wall before he could reach inside the drawer.

"What the hell! You almost cut off my hand!"

"Let's see what you were really looking for," said Arya scathingly, "because it sure wasn't the key to your shed."

She reached into the drawer and pulled out a handgun.

"Now, James," she said wagging a finger disapprovingly, "I thought we could be friends and then you try to pull a gun on me."

"How did you know?" he asked incredulously.

"Trade secret." was the coy reply.

She stuck the gun into the waistband of her pants with a bit of difficulty because they were skintight.

With a yank, Arya pulled her knife out of the wall and released James' arm. Her appearance and clear enjoyment of her work combined with her impressive skill was successfully scaring the crap out of James and turning him on at the same time.

"OK, take it easy." reassured James. "No more tricks. I'll give you what you want."

He located the box of C-4 which was hidden in the back of the shop. He pulled out a block of the clay-like explosive.

"This should be enough." he said, handing it over. "I trust you know how to use it."

Arya wrapped the block in a rag, but had no fears about it exploding before she needed it to. The property of C-4 that made it so useful was that it would not combust without a detonator.

As payment Arya handed James a wad of bills large enough to cover the cost of the C4 plus some extra cash to apologize for her unconventional methods.

"You are one badass chick." James said with a hint of admiration. "When you're done blowing stuff up, we should get together."

Arya winked at him and blew a kiss.

"Gotta run," she said, "but I'll be back eventually."

Arya headed to the parking lot of an overpriced restaurant on Rodeo Drive. There were a handful of cars parked in the lot, but Arya knew instantly which one belonged to Carlos. She made a mental note to find a way to thank Max. Once again he had been right.

She crouched down next to the black Lexus making sure to stay out of the line of vision of the driver who was seated in the front. Arya stuck the C4 underneath the car making sure it was secure. She carefully inserted the detonator and listen for the almost inaudible beep that told her the detonator had been activated. In thirty minutes, Arya's life would change forever.

In order to make sure that she would not chicken out, Arya set aside her feelings. She had to remain detached and treat this like any other job. Still watching Carlos's driver, Arya crawled on her hands and knees behind another car. She stuck her and through the open window and unlocked the door.

Luck was on Arya's side. Modern cars are much harder to hotwire than older ones, but this car was clearly made several decades ago. Her hands were slow because she was out of practice, but Arya hadn't lost her touch. She started the car and drove onto the street where she waited for Carlos to emerge from the restaurant. Twenty six minutes left.

Just to be safe Arya ducked when Carlos's car drove by. She followed him, careful to stay several cars behind. They headed towards a bridge. Traffic was painfully slow, increasing Arya's agitation. She eased the car closer to Carlos's Lexus and tried to steady her shaking hands.

An accident up ahead made traveling impossible. The cars idled on the bridge with nowhere to go. Only a few impatient honking horns broke the silence. Five minutes left.

Arya crept forward so that the bumper of her car was practically touching the Lexus. She needed to protect the civilians from the impending explosion, and she would do so by pushing Carlos off the bridge into the water below. Arya would kill two birds with one stone. She would protect the innocents on the bridge and also get the attention of the cop sitting a few cars ahead so that she could get arrested for murder. Two minutes left.

With thirty seconds until the explosion, Arya accelerated hard and rammed her car into Carlos's vehicle sending it over the edge of the bridge. Just before the car hit the water there was a spectacular boom. Scraps of metal flew everywhere and landed in the water to be carried away by the current.

Arya barely had time to register the cop approaching with his gun drawn before she passed out in her seat. The downside to an old car was that it had no airbags leaving her head free to collide with the dashboard. The cop carried Arya out of the wreck of the car and placed her in the back of his squad car.

When she woke up in the backseat of the car, the only thing Arya said was, "Did I get the bastard?"

"Yeah." said the cop. "There's no way anyone survived that crash."

Arya nearly wept with relief. From there she was silent, only to waive her right to council. The courts were heavily backed up, so Arya was placed in a holding cell until her trial.

When Arya opened her eyes, there was a man standing over her. Terror gripped her entire body. Carlos must have put her here with this man to guard her. Her eyes wide and unfocused, Arya could do nothing but scream.

Michael felt his gut wrench at the inhuman cry emerging from her lips. The girl shouted at him in French, but Michael could not understand her. His French was rusty and in her hysteria she spoke too fast for him to catch her words.

"I'm not going to hurt you." he said gently. "My name is Michael. You're not in prison anymore."

His words seemed to bring her back to the present. The haze in her eyes cleared and she met his gaze defiantly.

"Who are you?"

"I work for the government. For a group called Division. We have decided to give you a second chance. If you had gone to trial, you would have been sentenced to death for killing Carlos on that bridge. Now you have a shot at life with us."

"How do you know about me?" she asked warily. "Why me?"

"Division keeps its eyes open for potential recruits like you: unattached, attractive, with nothing to lose. We think you could be a strong addition to our team."

"What kind of team to you belong to?"

"You'll find out. Your training starts at five thirty tomorrow morning."

"And if I don't cooperate?"

"Right now, anyone who goes looking for you will find your remains in a prison cemetery. The world thinks that you drowned yourself in a bathtub. If you don't comply there is still room in that grave."

Arya looked around the room where she was being held. It was sterile with a bed, desk, and chair all colored white or grey. There were no windows. She supposed she would get used to it.

Michael turned to leave.

"One more thing." he said. "Welcome to Division."

Author's Note: I recently learned about beta readers, but I'm not sure how to find one. If any of you are interested in beta reading this story please let me know. Also, I'm sorry for the delay, but with finals and a computer virus things were pretty crazy. I'll do my best to keep updating as regularly as I can.

Feedback would be awesome!


	3. Chapter 2

As Michael was leaving the room, Arya leapt from her bed and tackled him. She struck the back of his neck with a carefully aimed blow, effectively knocking him out. Arya quickly fumbled through his clothing for his gun and strode briskly down the hallway, tucking the gun into her sweatpants that Division must have given her.

She reached a large exercise room where a dozen young men and women were engaged in some kind of combat training. Two men with guns stood watch over the room. Pretending like she belonged, Arya walked past the guards and went down another corridor.

An attractive, well-dressed woman stood at the other end of the hall. Her heels clicked sharply on the tile floor as she came towards Arya who raised her gun in response.

"Get me out of here." demanded Arya.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." replied the woman in a low, calm voice. "You see, Arya, there is no leaving Division."

She fixed her hypnotic gaze on Arya who stood rooted to the spot. Arya's grip loosened slightly on the gun as she heard the truth in the woman's words.

"I won't be a prisoner anymore." she declared unconvincingly.

"You don't have a choice, my dear; you belong at Division now. Since I know your name, it's only fair that you should know mine. My name is Amanda."

While Amanda spoke, Michael had been steadily creeping towards Arya from behind. He grabbed her and threw away the gun. She crumpled in his arms, surrendering to Michael and to Division. Her body shook with silent sobs as she struggled to accept her new reality.

"What happens to me now?" she asked fearfully.

"Michael and I are going to decide to forgive this little incident provided that you behave yourself." said Amanda firmly. "Can I trust you to cooperate?"

Arya nodded.

"Good. Then Michael will take you back to your room."

Amanda was the only one who ever entered Percy's office without knocking. For the most part, she did tap on the door out of courtesy, but this time she strode into the office unannounced just because she could. Amanda was continuously calculating her power and her standing with Percy. It was simply her nature to know what those around her were thinking, especially about her.

"Have you reached a conclusion on the latest recruit?" asked Percy.

"I have." answered Amanda. "I've been reviewing her files and observing her in her room for quite some time."

"Remind me of her background." Percy interrupted.

"Arya was left at an orphanage in Spain by an American woman who was presumed to be her mother. She lived at the orphanage until it was burned down by a local gang because the leaders of the institution refused allow the gang to extort money from them. Arya somehow escaped and ran to France where she met Carlos Mañoso. He took a fancy to her and had her live with him for the next seven years. Arya managed to run away, but she came after him a week ago and killed him."

Arya had been working for a few months to provide the clues that would lead Division to the story that she wanted them to believe about her. Arya figured that she could use everything that happened with her and Carlos to her advantage. She would not be able to hide completely from the watchful eyes of Division that she had been somewhat trained and saying that Carlos instructed her was the best excuse for her skills.

However, Arya could not be too flawless. She needed a weakness that was believable. Arya drew from her own experiences and relied on her true feelings about Carlos to serve as her shortcoming in the eyes of Division. Now, after her attempted escape, there would be no reason to doubt Arya's legitimacy.

"She has incredible potential," said Amanda, "but her background with Carlos will either make her one of the greatest agents we have ever had, or it will destroy her. Arya has come into Division already knowing multiple languages, how to handle weapons, how to fight, to withstand pain, and how to read body language quickly and accurately. All of this she learned from Carlos whether she is aware of it or not."

"She sounds like the perfect operative." said Percy. "What's the catch?"

"The years of abuse have had a profound effect on Arya, as could be expected. She suffers from nightmares, flashbacks, other Post Traumatic Stress Disorder symptoms. She has a general fear and mistrust of men, which I expect she can overcome with some time. However, her personal battle with Carlos will not be over any time soon. The only way Arya can serve Division is if she can put the past behind her. I don't know yet if that is possible."

"Well, keep her under extra observation for the time being. I trust you to decide whether she can operate or if she will need to be cancelled."

"I'll keep you informed." replied Amanda.

As promised, Michael came to wake up Arya at five thirty on the dot. Her heart raced as he opened the door, but Arya was able to stay in control. Her life at Division would depend on her ability to keep it together. The thing that scared Arya the most was that her fear was not an act. Even though Arya made the decision to project those feelings instead of hiding them altogether, they were painfully real.

All of the progress that Arya had made in regaining her personality since she had run away from Carlos seemed to have vanished. For every step forward, she seemed to travel two steps back.

Michael sensed Arya's discomfort and stepped out of the room while she brushed her teeth in the bathroom attached to her living quarters. When Arya was ready, she left the room and followed Michael to the training area.

"Here is where you will learn hand-to-hand combat and where you will come to stay in shape. I am going to be your mentor for the next few weeks and teach you everything you will need to know in order to survive. You will be pushed past your limits and then further still. You will be expected to remember every lesson that we teach you. If you survive the next year, you will be made an agent. Most recruits don't make it."

Michael's bright blue eyes met Arya's gray-green ones.

"But I know that you are different from most recruits. Good luck."

With his little speech out of the way, Michael got down to business. He evaluated Arya's fitness levels by testing her strength and endurance. She ran, lifted weights, and did all types of calisthenics but made sure to hold back a bit. Division did not need to know everything that she was capable of just yet.

Unbeknownst to Arya, Amanda stood above the training room watching her and Michael. She could see that Arya was not exerting herself fully. That would have to change in order to get an accurate understanding of her physical abilities.

After a seemingly endless regime of exercise, Michael decided that he was finished with Arya and she gratefully stepped into the shower. Arya let out a sigh of relief as she relaxed under the water letting it sooth her sore muscles. The bathroom had a communal shower with many showerheads, but Arya was glad it was empty.

With the water still dripping from her long, dark waves, Arya opened the door to the shower and went in search of a towel. She had decided to darken her locks from her natural chestnut color to jet black in honor of her emancipation from Carlos and the start of her new life.

Arya groaned. She should have thought to find a towel before she got into the shower. Hoping that no one would come in, Arya scanned the bathroom. It was the area where recruits cleaned up after their training, so they must have already finished their showers and used up the towels.

One small blue towel was left in the basket. Arya wrapped it around herself, but she was barely covered. A gust of cool air made Arya shiver as the bathroom door opened. A girl walked in and was surprised to see Arya standing there.

"Oh, I'm so sorry for walking in on you." she apologized, fingering her long, brown ponytail.

"Don't worry about it." replied Arya.

"Are you new here?" asked the girl.

Arya nodded. "Today was my first day."

"How'd it go?"

Arya shrugged. "With Michael, it's hard to tell where you stand."

The girl smiled. "I'm Alex, by the way."

"I'm Arya. Nice to meet you."

Alex extended her hand. When Arya shook it, her towel slipped lower and Alex noticed faint signs of bruising and scars. From the look of it, they were the result of a beating from a few months earlier. Arya caught Alex's stare and Alex quickly looked away.

"I'd better get dressed and finish my training." said Arya.

"See you around." was the friendly reply.

Michael was summoned to Percy's office, so Arya went to her next training session unaccompanied. She was directed to the weapons room. An older man stood at the front of the room teaching the recruits about handguns.

"You must be Arya." he grinned, his brown eyes twinkling. "Michael told me you were coming but didn't say how pretty you were going to be."

Arya gave him a thin smile response, and the instructor turned away from Arya to a girl sitting in front of him.

"Jaden," he said, "why don't you show Arya how to assemble a gun?"

"Sure Derrick." said the girl, tossing her head back confidently.

"This is a gun." she said slowly as though Arya was too stupid to understand her. "This is how you assemble the gun. First, put the recoil spring into the barrel of the gun. Then, insert the barrel into the bottom of the slide. Attach the slide to the bottom part of the gun and pull the slide all the way back, release the slide, and pull the trigger."

"And this," smirked Arya, "is what happens when you forget to load the magazine."

Arya pointed the gun at Jaden and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened since the gun was not loaded.

"I think I'll take my lessons from someone who knows what they're doing from now on."

Derrick was trying hard not to laugh. He put on a stern face and said, "If you're such an expert, why don't you show the class how to strip and reassemble the gun. You have thirty seconds. Go."

Arya navigated the weapon skillfully and had the task accomplished in twenty five seconds.

"Show off." muttered Jaden.

Arya mentally berated herself for showing up Jaden. Even though the girl was obnoxious, Arya had to keep her temper in check. When she got angry was when she started making mistakes; in a game with such high stakes, mistakes would not be tolerated.

A hand on her shoulder made Arya jump. A tall, attractive black man stood next to her.

"Good for you for putting Jaden in her place." he said, amused. "It's about time someone deflated her ego a bit. You just get here?"

"Yeah." said Arya. "It's been an unusual day."

He laughed.

"There's no such thing as usual in Division."

The guy spoke with an intriguing Caribbean accent. Arya could practically hear the rhythm of beating drums in his voice.

"Can I walk you to lunch?" he asked.

"Sure. I'm Arya, by the way."

"Roger."

Arya's head barely came up to Roger's shoulder providing her with an excellent view of his well-muscled torso as they walked. She decided that she would use Roger as a test for herself to see how well she could handle interacting with a man.

Arya had never really had a genuine relationship with a guy before. In the past she either used them or was used by them. Until she met Carlos. They did have something real at first, but look how well that turned out, she thought bitterly.

As Arya and Roger entered the cafeteria, they caught the eye of a male recruit who winked at them. He had shaggy blond hair and began walking across the room with a confident swagger.

"Merde." he swore under his breath in French. "Ce fils de pute." (Shit. That son of a bitch.)

"Where did you learn such delicate language?" she said with a smile.

"I was born in a French speaking part of the Caribbean." he answered, but still looked upset.

"What's wrong?" asked Arya.

"See that guy over there? That's Chad. He's a complete ass, and you should avoid him if you can. He's gotten a lot of people in trouble."

"Don't worry about me." she said nonchalantly. "I can take care of myself. Let's find a table."

They sat down with their lunch trays, and Arya became hyperaware of Roger's thigh touching her own.

"So you also speak French?" Roger asked pleasantly.

She nodded.

"I lived in France for a while before I came here."

"Why were you brought here, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Well," Arya began, "I . . ."

"Hullo there." interjected Chad in a charming British accent. "I just wanted to introduce myself. Chad, Chad Simon, at your service."

"Arya." she said, offering her hand.

Chad kissed her fingers.

"Charmed." he said, looking at her with electric blue eyes.

"Chad," called Jaden, "stop flirting with her. Come back over here."

"Duty calls." said Chad. "See you around."

Arya caught Roger's look.

"I won't get caught up in his little web, I promise. I can spot a douchebag a mile away. Jaden can have him; they deserve each other."

Arya recognized Alex, the girl from the bathroom. She sat down next to a ginger headed guy and began talking to him, ignoring Jaden and Chad who were making out at the table.

"I just lost my appetite." said Alex, loud enough for both Arya and Jaden to hear.

Arya giggled despite herself.

When she looked up, Michael was standing at the top of the stairs. He beckoned to Arya.

"Bye." she said to Roger, as she got up from the table.

"Amanda wants to see you." said Michael.

Arya swallowed nervously. She could feel it in her bones that Amanda was a force to be reckoned with.

"And about the other day," said Michael, "I'm not mad at you. I understand what you're going through, and if I were in your place I would have done the same thing."

"Thanks." said Arya. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Good luck with Amanda."

Arya nodded in response. She was going to need it.

Author's Note: Please read and review!


	4. Chapter 3

Arya hesitantly knocked on the door to Amanda's office.

"Come in." was the reply.

Arya opened the door and was surprised at what she saw. The room was large and spacious with an ornate dressing table and mirror set up against the wall. A mannequin dressed in an exquisite red gown stood next to a full length mirror.

Amanda sat at a coffee table pouring tea into two delicate china cups.

"Have a seat." said Amanda.

Arya supposed that men would find Amanda's throaty voice alluring. Complete with her flawless make up, expensive suit, and poised demeanor, Amanda was enticing but clearly dangerous like a siren who lures men to their deaths with her seductive singing.

Arya picked up her cup of tea and brought it slowly to her lips, but she was too uneasy to drink the hot liquid.

Amanda finished her drink and regarded Arya thoughtfully.

"You don't want your tea, but you pretend to drink it because I am drinking mine. You are mimicking my actions in an effort to please me."

"I didn't mean to . . ."

"I understand that it's just a reflex after your experiences with Carlos. He was always the alpha male, and you had to follow his lead in whatever he did to make him happy, didn't you?"

"I guess so." Arya answered. "I never really thought about it. I just did what I could to keep him content."

"Carlos had quite a temper, didn't he? You had to learn to read his body language in order to protect yourself and not to set him off."

Amanda was not asking for confirmation. She merely stated what she deduced to be true.

"Those skills, believe it or not, will come in handy here at Division. Now, I have a little exercise for you."

She turned on the television screen in the corner of the room.

"I want you to watch this interrogation tape and tell me what you see." instructed Amanda.

Amanda wanted to see Arya's reaction to the video. After showing select bits from the interrogation, Amanda shut off the tape.

"What did you observe?" asked Amanda.

"Interrogations are incredibly intimate. They have to be. If you want someone to comply with what you want, you need to figure them out and know what makes them tick."

Arya's eyes took on a faraway cast.

"Fear for one's own safety is a good place to start. The weaker ones will crack right away or after just a bit of pain. The stronger ones will take longer. Then there are those who are willing to die for their beliefs. They need to be dealt with differently."

"How."

"Threatening their loved ones. Under certain circumstances, bribery and promises might work but not with these people who are ready to be martyrs. If they have no family or friends and are prepared to die, then it gets tricky. Comforting them for some time might get them to relax and put their guard down. That could make them more vulnerable to an attack and less able to resist the pain. After that, you could try other techniques such as drugs, hallucinogens, mind control."

"The possibilities are endless." Arya added sarcastically.

"You are correct," said Amanda, "but you didn't learn all of that just from watching the interrogation. You speak from experience. That will help you in the long run because you know how it feels to be on the other side of the chair."

Arya knew that refusing to talk would only anger Amanda, and Arya could not afford to be on Amanda's bad side. Although Arya did not know the older woman, Arya could sense her power and keen intuition. Outward cooperation was Arya's best strategy.

"It's time to move on to a more pleasant lesson." Amanda decided. "Go put on the dress, the one on the mannequin."

Arya fingered the red chiffon fabric. She picked up the dress and looked for somewhere to change. Upon finding that she would have no privacy, Arya turned her back on Amanda and hurriedly slipped into the dress. When Amanda held up a pair of black, patent leather, peep-toe stilettos, Arya practically salivated.

"Try the shoes also." ordered Amanda.

When she was all dressed, Arya was told to sit at the dressing table. Amanda stood behind her.

"What do you see?" Amanda asked.

Arya slowly lifted her gaze to examine her reflection.

"I don't know."

"Why don't you like to look in the mirror?"

"Because that's not _my_ face."

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"My face, my body, they don't belong to me here any more than they did before." she said flatly. "Here, I get trained, there are people to please, I can't leave, and I have no control over anything. It's no different than when I was with him."

"What else aren't you saying." prompted Amanda, her gaze almost predatory.

Arya looked at the floor.

"You look at me the same way he did." she said quietly.

"And how is that?"

Arya paused.

"With hungry eyes."

Amanda placed a comforting hand on Arya's shoulder.

"I'm not here to hurt you or control you. My job is to teach you, but I would also like to be here for you. Think of me as your new mother figure. You can come talk to me about how you feel, and I can help you make it through the training and beyond. Arya, I want you to know that you can trust me."

Arya couldn't stop the tears that escaped her tightly shut eyes. She turned to Amanda, her expression pleading.

"I'm scared; I'm so scared."

"I'll take care of you." said Amanda gently. "And I promise that you'll be okay."

Amanda was the one who truly held the power in Division. She was completely cold and calculating. Her emotions, though it hardly seemed she had any, never interfered with her work. Her personal life was kept completely separate from her job. Amanda did much more than apply makeup to Division operatives. She taught the agents the most vital skill they would ever learn at Division: to lie. Anyone could be taught to fire a weapon, but the true evaluation of what made a good operative was his or her ability to deceive. Amanda also showed the agents how to act, how to walk, how to talk, how to become someone else.

She was responsible for developing psychological profiles of everyone at Division. Her ability to detach herself from her emotions was what gave Amanda the ability to analyze the agents. Amanda determined, with some input from Percy, who was to be cancelled. Then she did the job herself. The kind, mothering act was just that: an act. Amanda did what she had to do in order to gain Arya's trust.

The next task was to show Arya how to put on makeup to best enhance her features. Amanda calculatingly looked at Arya's face, bluntly evaluating her assets and flaws. She taught Arya how to paint her face depending on the look she was going for whether it be sexy, girl-next-door, younger, or more sophisticated.

Arya applied the creams and powders under Amanda's tutelage until Amanda herself took over. When she was finished, Arya could not help but marvel at the results.

Her eyes were impossibly large and shimmered with silvery eye shadow that made the grey in her irises more pronounced. Soft blush highlighted her high cheekbones and gave Arya a sophisticated air. A shiny gloss coated her full lips which parted in a small smile of pleasure.

"I look pretty." Arya decided, almost surprised.

"You are a beautiful girl." said Amanda. "Part of my job here is to help you realize that so you can embrace your natural beauty."

Amanda allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. Arya looked exquisite yet vulnerable; a little girl playing dress-up in party clothes who was not aware of her loveliness.

She would be perfect.

Arya modeled the dress for Amanda and quickly grew comfortable in the heels.

Percy entered the room.

"Is she ready?" he asked impatiently.

Amanda nodded.

"Come with me." ordered Percy.

Arya looked at Amanda for confirmation.

"This is Percy." explained Amanda. "He is the head of Division."

"What do you want with me?" asked Arya.

"You'll be told the details on the way."

Not having much choice, Arya followed Percy out of Amanda's office. They headed down the hallway, Percy several steps ahead. They passed the training area for the recruits and everyone stared. Roger ran up to Arya.

"What's going on?" he whispered.

"I have no idea." said Arya. "I think I'm going on my first mission."

Author's Note: Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Also, I have a very general plan for the story but nothing is too solidified, so I would love to hear any suggestions or requests that you guys have. Your opinions mean a lot to me, and I hope you share them!

I'm so sorry for the mistake. Please let me know right away if I make any posting errors.


	5. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I messed up when posting the previous chapter and accidentally reposted the prologue. I did fix it, so make sure you have read the real chapter before moving on to this one. A huge thank you to my new betareader BadassGenius!

Michael sat next to Arya in the back of the black limousine and briefed her on the mission while Percy remained glued to his Blackberry phone in the front of the car. Michael pulled out a picture.

"This man, Charles Bentley, is in possession of a briefcase that contains some sensitive information regarding Division that we intend to keep private. The problem is that Bentley is part of the group that oversees the allocation of our funding, so we need to find out what he has in the case while staying on his good side. The plan is to get the case at this fundraiser dinner tonight."

"Why am I involved?" asked Arya, not understanding.

"Well," Michael began, "like most men, Bentley prefers a certain type of woman. You happen to be his type."

"What type would that be?"

"He likes women with your coloring. He also likes his girls young and inexperienced. He enjoys seducing them."

Arya gave a harsh laugh.

"I'm hardly 'inexperienced.'" she said scathingly.

"You are to pose as Percy's daughter," Michael continued, "and Bentley will try to lead you out of the ballroom of the hotel where the dinner will take place. Bentley keeps the briefcase on him at all times, but we are hoping that he will leave it guarded when he exits the room with you. My job is to take the case while another Division operative distracts Bentley's security so that I can copy the files and return them. This way, Bentley will be none the wiser, and Division will be able to prepare a strategy to deal with whatever dirt he has on us. We would just destroy the file completely, but Bentley would get suspicious. Anyway, he probably has copies, so our best bet is to be ready for whatever he throws at us."

Arya silently fumed. Her only value to Division was to be used as bait.

"We need you to keep Bentley distracted for as long as possible while still allowing him to be the dominating partner. Here is a cell phone. When the mission is accomplished I will send you a message to extricate yourself from the situation and head back to the ballroom. Can you handle it?"

Arya nodded. What else could she do? Her life was on the line. Arya could see in Michael's eyes that the punishment for failure would be death even if he didn't explicitly state it. She slipped the phone into an inconspicuously located pocket on the dress, making sure it did not show.

When the limo pulled up to the hotel, Michael helped Arya out of the car. Percy had already begun walking up the walkway to the entrance of the hotel.

"Aren't you going to wait for me, Daddy?" asked Arya sweetly.

"Of course pumpkin." was the reply.

Percy saw Arya's eyes widen in surprise. After everything Arya had discovered about Percy by combing through Henry Wilcox's files, she did not expect such a ruthless man to be capable of exchanging pleasantries with her. Arya knew that to Percy she was just a pawn, so she was amazed that Percy would talk to her as though she were another human being.

"I was a field agent too back in my day." Percy said with a hint of smugness. "I can manage the role of a doting father. Just remember to be light and innocent and follow Bentley's lead."

"I can manage to be a distraction." Arya said coolly.

Percy took Arya's arm and led her inside.

….

Alex pressed her nose to the glass of the communications room, making sure she wasn't being watched. After seeing Arya, Michael, and Percy heading out, Alex was determined to inform Nikita of the mission. A picture flashed onto one of the screens. The Blue Diamond Hotel.

Panting, Alex arrived at the empty computer room. Her fingers flew over the keys as she sent a message to Nikita.

'_Something is going down at the Blue Diamond Hotel tonight. Percy, Michael, and a new recruit just left. Wear a party dress.' _

'_Good work. On my way.'_

Nikita exited her back-door program and rifled through her stash of weapons. She did not know what to expect, and it was best to be prepared. Instead of heeding Alex's advice and donning a dress, Nikita put on a pair of black slacks and a white blouse. Waiters were much more inconspicuous than dinner guests, and guns could be hidden more easily under a loose top than a fitted gown.

The trademark black van in the parking lot gave Division away immediately. Nikita knew Division as well as they knew themselves. The disadvantage to havinga large organization was that it could not instantly change its policies, so since Nikita knew Division protocol she could predict their moves. Conversely, there was no way for anyone to know what Nikita would do next because she had no orders to follow but her own.

….

Arya felt exposed in her low-cut, fitted dress as many pairs of eyes watched while she strode through the room with Percy. He had arranged for them to be seated next to Bentley at the pristinely set dinner table.

"Charles, this is my daughter Arya. Arya, Charles Bentley."

They shook hands.

"So pleased to meet you." he said smoothly.

Bentley was distinguished with his salt and pepper hair and well-tailored suit. He was fit and trim for a man of his age and worked hard to remain that way.

Michael's function was to be Percy's bodyguard, and Bentley had muscle of his own. The bodyguard sat at his employer's side saying nothing, and his suit did little to disguise his hulking frame. The briefcase sat at Bentley's feet under the vigilant gaze of the bodyguard. Michael was confident that the mission would go off without a hitch.

The trio made small-talk over the course of the meal. Arya ate delicately and without much appetite while Bentley watched her lustfully. A band had been playing music in the background during the dinner, and Bentley asked Arya to dance. She looked at Percy for confirmation to which he gave a nod.

Bentley purposely handed over the leather briefcase to the bodyguard, and he and Arya headed to the dance floor where several other couples had already begun to dance. Bentley held one of Arya's hands in his own and placed his other hand on her waist. She followed his lead as they waltzed around the room. He grinned at her and she smiled back shyly, peeping at him out from under her lashes.

At the end of the song, Charles stopped to brush back a lock of hair that had fallen out of place. Arya's breath caught in her throat with an audible gasp as his fingers touched her face. He leaned in closer, watching her chest rise and fall rapidly in response to both the dancing and to his touch.

"Let's get out of here." he whispered.

"Okay." she whispered back, surprised at her own audacity.

They snuck out of the room and headed upstairs to an empty lounge. Arya sat next to Charles on a plush couch. He held her face in his hands and leaned down to kiss her. She pulled away.

"Mr. Bentley," she began.

"I told you, call me Charles."

"Charles, I've never done anything like this before, so I . . . I don't really know what to do."

"Don't worry." he crooned. "You're absolutely perfect just the way you are."

"I'm a little nervous." she confessed. "Are you sure you want to do this with _me_?"

He chuckled and she flushed. God she was exactly what he wanted.

"I'm positive. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

He pressed his mouth to hers, relishing at her sweet, breezy scent. Arya's heart thudded wildly, but not for the same reason Bentley's did. Arya was fighting to keep the panic from consuming her.

Charles shifted his weight so that he was on top of her and continued to passionately cover her with his kisses. Arya closed her eyes and tried to keep breathing as he inched her dress up her thighs.

….

Sneaking into the hotel kitchen was simple. The place was a zoo with the head cook shouting orders and waiters running around with trays piled precariously high with food. Nikita grabbed a tray and made sure to stay out of Percy and Michael's corner of the room.

She watched as Charles Bentley got up to dance with a girl who was presumably the new recruit Alex had mentioned. Nikita had done a mission of her own involving Bentley, but she had been lucky enough just to be told to break into his office. No seduction was necessary for that operation although Nikita had run her fair share of valentine ops which involved sleeping with and sometimes forming a relationship with the target.

The recruit and Bentley discreetly exited the room. Nikita followed stealthily. She had no knowledge of the objective of the mission and figured following Bentley was the way to find out what was going on. The two headed up a flight of stairs foregoing the elevator. Bentley seemed to have a destination in mind.

Nikita entered the stairwell just as the door banged shut on the entrance to the second floor. She opened it a crack and saw the pair enter a lounge. Nikita came closer and heard the unmistakable click of a lock being activated. She ran down the hallway and turned the corner. Bingo. The lounge had an entrance on the other side.

Since Nikita did not have her tools on her, picking the lock of the other door would take too long and be too detectable from the inside. From her vantage point kneeling at the keyhole of this door, Nikita could watch unobserved and find out the purpose of this Division mission.

All she saw was a make-out session. Bentley was on top of the girl, but looking closer, Nikita realized that the expression on the girl's face was pure terror. It took all of Nikita's self-control to refrain from bursting into the room and giving the slime-bag what he deserved, but she had to remember the big picture. There would be another chance to save the girl, to save everyone who was forced to work for Division.

…...

Arya's phone beeped loudly, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She moved to read the text message, but Bentley pushed her back down.

"Ignore it." he coaxed. "Aren't we more important?"

"What if it's my dad?" she asked apprehensively. "What if he finds out?"

Arya checked the message.

"It's him!" she cried. "He wants to know where I am. What do I say? I'm a terrible liar."

"Let me do the talking, sweetheart." he said, stroking her hair. "Just take a deep breath."

With a hand around her waist, Bentley guided Arya out of the lounge, back down the stairs, and to the ballroom.

….

Nikita swore under her breath. She had clearly been focusing on the wrong people. The recruit had distracted her as much as she had distracted Bentley. Nikita hoped that it was not too late to still sabotage the mission.

She flew down the staircase and into the kitchen where she scanned the ballroom from the kitchen doorway. Michael was just inconspicuously replacing a briefcase underneath the chair of the man sitting next to him who was clearly a bodyguard. The guard appeared drowsy but quickly snapped to attention as his employer joined the table with the recruit.

The girl appeared slightly flustered, but Bentley was giving some kind of excuse to Percy as to where they had disappeared to. Of course, Percy accepted the lie. Both men were smiling; Bentley because of his seduction of Percy's daughter and Percy due to the successful operation.

The briefcase was the key. The question was what its contents were. Nikita decided to keep an eye on Bentley for the time being and find out what was in the case.

….

Percy decided that he, Michael, and Arya should linger at the dinner so as not to seem suspicious. Besides, Percy could use the opportunity to mingle with his funders. Arya excused herself and went to find the ladies' room.

She leaned against the door of a stall, catching her breath. Now was not the time to cry; Arya was a better agent than that. She was strong. She made it through one operation, and she could survive another. But not if they were all like this. Not if she wouldn't always have a cell phone to bale her out before it was too late.

Nikita heard the frantic breathing coming from outside the bathroom stall where she checked her handheld computer for any new messages from Alex. Nothing. She opened the door of the bathroom stall. The recruit from before was propped up against the adjacent stall with a look of anguish on her face that Nikita knew well.

The girl had her eyes closed – she was fighting back tears – and did not see Nikita. Hurriedly, Nikita scrawled a note on a paper towel with a pen she found on the floor and exited the bathroom before the girl could open her eyes.

Arya knew that the other person in the bathroom must have thought that she was crazy, but Arya didn't care. She breathed deeply: in through her nose and out through her mouth to release the tension she was feeling. Upon opening her eyes, Arya noticed a note on the bathroom sink. It had been scrawled on a paper towel by whoever had been in the bathroom earlier. The note read 'It gets easier.'

Desperately, Arya ran out of the bathroom and tried to catch the person who had written the note. There was no one in sight. With a sight, Arya folded the paper towel and stuffed it in her bra. She almost smiled. This meant that someone on the outside knew where she was and cared enough to leave her a message.

Arya felt a thin ray of hope. She was going to make it.


	6. Chapter 5

Nikita kept her eye on Bentley over the course of the dinner. When he stood up to leave, Nikita tailed him to the parking lot, careful to avoid Michael and Percy. The valet went to retrieve Bentley's car while Nikita climbed into her own vehicle.

Staying well behind Bentley but still in sight of the car, Nikita followed him home. She drove past the house so as not to seem suspicious but then circled back. She picked a spot across the street and began her stakeout.

As Bentley and his bodyguard entered the house, Nikita watched with the aid of the binoculars that she kept in the glove compartment of her car. The front door had an electronic lock, complete with a fingerprint scanner. The silhouette of a second guard was visible through the dining room window. The first bodyguard remained outside and proceeded to run a sweep of the perimeter. Now was her chance.

Nikita exited the car and slowly approached the house as though she was trying to read the address.

"Excuse me." she called.

The bodyguard looked up. Nikita headed across the lawn towards him.

"I'm looking for 2944 Ashbury Street, but I can't seem to find it. Could you point me in the right direction?"

"Lady, you're on the wrong street. This is 2944 Orrington Drive."

"Oh, thank you so much."

She turned to go and then pivoted back around, her foot landing square in the man's chest. He landed on the ground with the wind knocked out of him. Nikita grabbed his radio before he could call for help and took his gun as well. Gesturing with the weapon, she had the guard get up and walk to the front door. It was dark enough for Nikita not to fear that the neighbors would see her and call the police. The night also provided her some cover from anyone inside the house who might have been looking out.

"You're going to let me in, or I will put a bullet through your brain." she threatened.

Reluctantly, the guard punched in the entry code and pressed his finger to the scanner. The door opened with a click. Nikita cracked the gun across the man's face and caught him as he fell. She dumped the unconscious man in the bushes and ran back up the steps into the house.

She tiptoed down a carpeted hallway and spotted Bentley in his study. He loosened his tie and poured himself a drink from his extensive liquor cabinet. The briefcase was sitting on his desk.

Nikita had always sworn by anonymity, but at this point it did not matter if Bentley saw her face. He would inevitably suspect Percy as the orchestrator of the grab. Then once he described Nikita, Percy would know that she was involved. And it wouldn't make a difference. He would still work just as hard to catch her while she labored to destroy him.

With that settled, Nikita stepped into the study with her gun raised.

"My trigger finger is a little itchy tonight after I saw what you did to that girl back at the hotel. Don't give me any more reason to shoot you. Just hand over the case."

"You think I don't have copies?" he scoffed. "Take it. There are dozens of copies of the file, and you'll never find them all. You can't kill me because there goes your funding. Don't you get it? I have the dirt on you, so I win. Tell Percy to just give up."

"How do you plan on blackmailing Percy? What do you want?"

"Nothing yet. But I'm saving it for a rainy day."

"Interesting. All the same, I think I'll take the case."

Nikita picked up the briefcase but kept the gun pointed at Bentley.

"Don't underestimate Percy. He tends to get what he wants."

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Back at her apartment, Nikita examined the briefcase. It contained many mundane papers related to Bentley's governmental work along with a jump-drive. She plugged the device into her computer and viewed the files.

They were photographs of Percy having a drink with an unidentified man. Cases were being exchanged. The other man opening his case to verify the contents. Zooming in, Nikita could see that the case contained vials of arsenic. The arsenic was clearly labeled, which meant that it must have been acquired from a legitimate source instead of being smuggled to the buyer. A legitimate source such as from the U.S. government.

This was serious. It was enough to do some serious damage to Division and to Percy especially. His superiors would be furious if the pictures were leaked. No doubt, some story had been concocted to protect Division from the photographs since Percy knew that Bentley had them. However, Division would not be expecting the pictures to be leaked so soon before Bentley made any demands.

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After what seemed like an eternity, Percy agreed that it was time to leave the party. Bentley had left some time earlier, but Percy had other business to attend to so Michael and Arya had stayed. Arya wordlessly took her seat in the back of the car, but Percy was in good spirits.

When they reached Division, Arya headed straight to Amanda's office to return her dress.

"I know that you don't have an official debrief scheduled, but I would like to talk to you about how the mission went."

"The mission was fine." she said flatly. "Everything went as planned."

"Then why are you so upset?"

Arya looked at Amanda accusatorially.

"Because I trusted you and then five minutes later you hand me over to Percy to be used as bait. I wanted so badly to have someone here that I could count on, but clearly it's never going to be you."

"Do you think I wanted to send you out there?" countered Amanda. "I had no more choice than you did. I can give Percy my opinion or my advice, but the final decision is his when it comes to Division."

Amanda spoke calmly, as she always did, yet beneath her rational tone was a hint of worry. She wondered if sending Arya into the field so soon had been a mistake because Amanda feared that she had damaged her budding relationship with Arya. Her most logical course of action would be to present herself and Arya on the same side with Percy on the other.

"I knew that you were not psychologically prepared for this mission, but Percy insisted on it. From now on, I will be working with you to get over your fears. Carlos won't be able to control your life anymore."

Arya sighed. Amanda was without a doubt one of the best liars Arya had ever seen. She always kept an even temperament and tone of voice. Her face was still and unreadable. However, Arya just knew in her bones that she could not trust Amanda. For appearances sake, she would go along with the older woman. Arya knew that being in proximity with Amanda would be dangerous, but to defy Amanda's attempt to connect with Arya would be even more hazardous.

Michael entered the room, looking for Amanda.

"Are you busy?" he asked.

"I just need to finish up here." Amanda responded.

She pulled out a cardboard box.

"Even though you didn't show it, I know how hard tonight was for you. As a reward, I got you a present."

Amanda handed the box to Arya who opened it cautiously. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, lay a pair of ballet slippers. Arya's eyes lit up as she smiled. Michael was struck by how much happiness transformed her face.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"We saw that you attended numerous ballet classes when you lived with Carlos. From the description of your instructor, you seemed to enjoy them."

Arya's joy at receiving the gift was dampened by the reminder of Carlos and of the way her privacy was – and would always be – intruded upon. Box in hand, Arya left the office and headed towards her room.

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"What is it, Michael?" wondered Amanda.

"I don't think it was a wise move to send Arya on a Valentine Op so soon. She wasn't ready. I won't tolerate my agents being treated that way."

"I'll be sure to prepare her more thoroughly next time."

Michael gave Amanda a look.

"What does that mean exactly?" he asked, doubtful of Amanda's intentions.

"Never mind." Amanda replied. "I know you're worried; just let me do my job."

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Alex was waiting for Arya in the hallway.

"What happened?" she whispered. "How did your mission go?"

"Let's not talk out here." Arya whispered back. "You never know who is listening, and I don't want to get in trouble."

"Come to my room." Alex said.

They sat cross-legged on Alex's bed.

"I've never been on a mission." Alex said excitedly. "Tell me everything."

Arya did not know what possessed her to enter the room and to talk to Alex. She liked the other girl well enough, given the short time they had known each other, but Arya had told herself that she would not get too attached to anyone. Arya felt isolated and craved human companionship, but desires made her weak.

"There's not much to tell. Percy wanted to copy the files that were in this briefcase without the owner knowing, so he sent me to distract the guy while Michael drugged the bodyguard and copied the files."

"Wouldn't the bodyguard notice if he was drugged and tell his employer about it?" asked Alex.

"Not if he wants to keep his job."

"Did they make you sleep with the guy?" she questioned softly.

"Thank goodness, no. We just made out a little." Arya said, casually. "It was no big deal."

Alex looked at Arya.

"It is a big deal. I know what happened to you before Division, and for what it's worth I'm sorry."

Arya could see that this was the reason why Alex was waiting for her.

"How did you find out?" asked Arya, her voice deadly calm.

"I overheard Amanda and Michael talking about it."

"What did they say?"

"Amanda was just telling Michael to be careful with you because of what had happened. That's all."

Arya studied Alex carefully.

"So what's your story?"

Alex owed Arya that much.

"I was a junkie. My boyfriend and I were robbing a store to score some drugs, and Ronnie shot someone. The police thought I did it, so I was arrested. They would have tried me for murder, but then I came here."

"I meant before that." said Arya. "What made you like me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." said Alex.

Arya almost believed her.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but don't deny it. You weren't waiting for me because you wanted to talk about the mission."

Alex was shocked that she had been so transparent. Even though she had convinced herself that was only trying to ask Arya about the mission for Nikita's sake, Alex was really reaching out to a kindred soul.

"Okay." said Alex, throwing caution into the wind. "Here it goes. "

She needed to tell someone. Her past was burning inside of her, eating her alive.

"I was sold to the Russians as a sex slave when I was thirteen. The other girls and I were sent here on a boat. I escaped after a few months, but they had kept us drugged and I was hooked. My memories of that time are just a blur of drugs. I don't really remember too much except for how badly I needed those hits. I wasn't free after I ran away because the drugs controlled my whole life. And now I'm clean, but I'm stuck at Division."

Alex told her story in halting, awkward phrases, but she was glad she did. Although Alex had tried to keep her voice emotionless, she cracked at the end.

It was Arya's turn.

"I never really knew how to deal with people." Arya admitted. "I've been running for as long as I can remember and I basically was never able to have any relationships. With the guy who kidnapped me, my life was a living hell. He was everywhere, all the time. There was nowhere I could go to get away from him. Even my own head wasn't safe. He was in all of my nightmares. I was brought here because I killed him, but I still see him wherever I turn. He's going to haunt me forever."

Tentatively, Alex took Arya's hand. Unsure of how to react to human contact, Arya looked at Alex for guidance. Alex pulled the other girl closer and hugged her tightly. With a deep breath, Arya hugged her back. Together they cried at the sadness of their own lives yet with the relief that they were not alone in their suffering.

Both Alex and Arya had sworn that they would not form personal connections at Division; that no emotion would stand in the way of their goals. But they were both growing to see the liberation that comes with unburdening oneself of deeply buried feelings. It was gratifying to find someone who understood.


	7. Chapter 6

Arya felt herself slowly drifting back to the realm of the living. She felt the warmth radiating from the body beside her. It was . . . pleasant. She had never imagined that she would be glad to wake up next to somebody. She leisurely got out of bed and went to Alex's bathroom to wash her face.

Alex joined Arya at the sink and began brushing her teeth. Upon noticing Alex's hair, they both laughed at the huge frizzy mess.

"I don't know what happened?" Alex giggled. "My hair is usually fine."

"I don't suppose Division gives you hair gel, does it?"

"Unfortunately, no. What should I do?"

"Here." said Arya bravely. "Let me fix it."

She was getting good at being a normal girl. It should have been easier to touch someone to whom she had bared a part of her soul, but even so Arya had to push herself.

With tentative movements, Arya combed her fingers through Alex's waves and began to weave the locks of hair into a French braid. Gaining confidence, she moved faster until all of Alex's hair was pulled back in the braid. Arya fastened it with a ponytail and surveyed her handiwork.

"Thanks, it looks great." said Alex warmly. "I've always liked the look of a French braid, but I have a hard time braiding my own hair. Do you want me to do yours?"

"Sure. Why not? We can match."

As Alex tugged gently on Arya's hair, the room filled with a comfortable silence. Arya had never willingly engaged in so much physical contact, and to her surprise it felt nice. She was making progress; more than ever before.

Running her hand along the ridges of the braid, Arya realized with a jolt how much had been missing from her life. She had never worn her hair in a French braid because she couldn't do it herself and there was never anyone to do it for her. But it wasn't just about the hair. There was never anyone for her to depend on. The friends she had made at the CIA were temporary. Now they thought she was dead; that didn't count. The knot in her stomach was a reminder to how messed up, how different she truly was from everyone else. Alex might have more in common with Arya than most, but even she would never truly comprehend how Arya felt.

"You okay?" asked Alex, concerned.

"Yeah, fine. I was just spacing for a sec. We'd better get going."

"Don't forget your box. What's in there anyway?"

"It's nothing, just shoes from Amanda."

After dropping off the shoebox in Arya's room, they headed to the cafeteria for breakfast. As they entered, Roger waved from his table. Alex and Arya joined him with their food.

"What happened last night?" he asked with a mixture of envy and worry.

"Everyone is so eager to find out what happened, but I didn't do anything too impressive. I was just there to distract another man so that Michael could get in his briefcase and copy some files."

"Any man in his right mind wouldn't have been able to take his eyes off of you in that dress. I know I'd have been distracted." Chad said from behind them.

Arya rolled her eyes.

"Save your lame pickup lines for someone who cares." she responded sardonically.

"I'm hurt." he said with mock sadness.

"I bet Jaden is just dying to make you feel better. Why don't you go sit with her?"

Arya turned back to her cereal, and Chad left to join Jaden.

After a quick breakfast, it was time to head to the training area for practice at hand to hand combat. Just Arya's luck, she was assigned to partner with Jaden for her first day of fighting.

"I just want to see what you know and what your strengths and weaknesses are." said the instructor, a large Caucasian man named Blake. "After this, you'll begin your formal training. Don't be upset if you lose since Jaden has several months of experience on you."

They circled each other, hands raised. Arya had to remember that she wasn't supposed to know much about fighting, but it was hard to stop from instinctually analyzing Jaden's stance. Jaden threw the first punch and Arya ducked. She decided to be defensive. Arya wasn't just going to let Jaden knock her around even if she had to lose the fight.

Arya continued to dodge Jaden's blows until Jaden's fist collided with Arya's ribs. Making it seem as though the force of the hit had toppled her, Arya landed flat on her back with the gym mat to cushion the impact. She made no move to get up.

"I guess you're used to lying on your back." taunted Jaden.

"What's that supposed to mean."

"Well what else did you do with your sugar daddy in that fancy house in Paris?"

A cold rage came over Arya and she leapt to her feet.

"You'll pay for that." she snarled as she flew at Jaden, dealing her a vicious blow to the kidney.

Jaden dropped like a rock. Arya pinned Jaden's arms to the mat with her knees and sat astride her chest. Before she could do any damage, Blake pulled her off Jaden. Arya fought him, but she was no match for the bearlike man. He held her in a full nelson, keeping his grip tight.

Arya's eyes grew wider as she frantically thrashed against the unmoving instructor. She froze, utterly paralyzed with fear. Thinking that she had calmed down, Blake released her and she fell to the ground shaking. Seeing that something was clearly wrong, Roger ran to her side. He could tell from her eyes that she was somewhere else.

"It's Roger." he whispered, "Can you hear me? Come back to me."

She looked like a child caught in a nightmare. Roger just had to convince Arya to wake up. Suddenly, Roger remembered the lullaby that his mother sang to him to help him sleep when he was little. Cradling Arya in his arms, Roger hummed the soothing melody. Her breathing slowed and her heart rate returned to normal. She opened her eyes, meeting his warm brown ones with a mixture of gratitude and shame.

"Thank you." she said shakily.

"No problem. Are you alright?"

"Yeah. It was just a panic attack. I'm fine."

Jaden stood on the other side of the room sulking.

"Did you see that?" she whined to Blake. "That bitch attacked me! You need to report her."

He ignored her and focused his attention on the pair of recruits on the mats.

"Keep your hands up." Blake called. "Thom, don't let yourself get distracted. I want your eyes on your opponent at all times."

Arya noticed that Thom was watching Alex instead of his sparring partner and that Alex was returning the look. Thom's pupils widened almost unperceptively and his nostrils flared in the classic example of lust. For Alex's safety, Arya would keep an eye on Thom to make sure that his emotions were more than just primal and that he actually had feelings for Alex. That was what friends did. A warm, fuzzy sensation floated through Arya. She had a friend.

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Although this was only her second session with Amanda, the newest Division recruit already felt emotionally drained. Arya did not understand how people confided in each other on a daily basis. Never before had Arya understood the effort it took to expose oneself.

"Arya, I noticed that you were not in your room last night." began Amanda. "You slept in Alex's room."

Arya said nothing.

"It does happen that women who are abused by men turn to other women. They often feel more comfortable with a woman and that women are more trustworthy than men. If you have these feelings, it is perfectly normal, but I would like to talk to you about them."

"Oh, no. It's not like that." insisted Arya. "We were just talking and we fell asleep." She paused. "I'm not ready for that kind of relationship with anybody right now, and I don't know if I'll ever be."

After that expression of emotion, Amanda got little else out of Arya. The girl had clearly been making a huge effort to respond to Amanda's psychological probing, but she had reached her limit for the time being. Amanda was hoping to find out some answers about Arya in a way that transcended words. Everyone knows actions are infinitely more valuable.

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Technology had never been Arya's strong suit. She had wordlessly taken her seat next to Alex in the computer room and tried to mimic Alex's actions as the resident genius Birkhoff explained the basics of how to hack a computer.

Arya had disliked Birkhoff from the moment she met him. Her initial read on him was that he was a coward and a weakling who participated in the technological aspects of Division because it was his way of feeling like one of the spies even though he was not physically capable of being an agent.

He endlessly belittled the recruits for their lack of intellect and sloppy computer skills. Birkhoff could see that the members of Division did not respect him, so he demanded respect from the recruits. Birkoff also could not admit to his mistakes. Everything that went wrong was always someone else's fault. When a male recruit Robbie found a flaw in the system, Birkhoff was quick to dismiss him. Arya did not know enough from a technological standpoint to understand Robbie's point, but she could read the anger on Birkhoff's face for his mistake in the program being caught.

Once most of the recruits had mastered a rudimentary hack, Birkhoff spent the rest of the lesson bragging conceitedly about his network called Shadow-net. Arya quickly grew bored and focused her attention on the swirling screensaver. Unable to stop herself, she yawned loudly.

"If you want to make it here you're going to have to listen to me, doll face." said Birkhoff patronizingly.

"Don't mind me." replied Arya. "I always yawn when I'm interested."

The class snickered. Birkhoff's face grew steadily redder, but he continued talking about Shadow-net. Arya regretted her outburst and resolved to apologize. She had to do better.

When the recruits were dismissed, Arya approached Birkhoff.

"I'm really sorry for being rude to you." she said contritely. "I had just spent the past hour with Amanda, and she was kind of messing with my head. I feel terrible for taking my bad morning out on you."

"You should feel bad." huffed Birkhoff. "I'm going to let it slide this once, but from now on you need to be a model student."

"Thank you." smiled Arya.

Birkhoff smiled back, his attention on Arya's cleavage.

"Good, now get going."

Arya left the room, grimacing. _Yuck, what a loser,_ she thought to herself as she headed to lunch.

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Alex and Thom were already sitting together at a table, ignoring their food: they were too engrossed in conversation. Thom leaned in closer and Alex's body curved to meet his. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and they maintained constant eye contact during the conversation. There was smiling, flirting, and a bit of sexual tension.

Arya watched from afar, her lunch tray in hand.

"Jealous?" whispered Chad in her ear. "Because we could get them back."

"I'm not jealous of them." said Arya casually. "Just curious. As a friend."

"Well does Alex know that Jaden and Thom have been hooking up for the past few months? I bet that would change her mind about Thom."

"Aren't you and Jaden together? Why would she be with Thom?"

"Jaden and I aren't exclusive. We both see other people. If you're ever interested . . ." Chad leaned closer and licked his lips.

Arya's lip curled in disgust.

"Don't hold your breath."

She spun on her heel, her hair almost whipping him in the face, and marched across the room to where Roger was seated at a table.

"Hey there." he said cheerfully.

"Why are you in such a good mood?"

"I'm not supposed to talk about it, but I was just assigned to a mission."

"What for?" she asked, trying to keep the cynicism out of her voice.

"It's not what you think." answered Roger, seeing through her. "I'm not just acting as Percy's errand boy. This is an anti-terrorist mission for the good of the country. This is my chance to make up for the bad choices I've made. Division is giving me a second chance, and I'm taking it."

"That's great." said Arya, sincerely happy for Roger although she did not trust division. "Does this mean you're an agent now?"

"Nah," he shook his head, "but if I do well then I'll begin the final stage of my training and graduate."

"Agent Roger." she said with mock seriousness. "It has a nice ring to it."

Arya's eyes wandered back over to Alex and Thom who were just as she left them. Glancing up, Arya noticed Michael watching from upstairs. He looked jealous, she noted with interest. Why would Michael be jealous of Alex? Did he like her too? Arya felt as though she was living in a soap opera.

She moved to talk to Roger and caught him staring at her.

"What is it?" she asked self-consciously.

"You never know how these missions go down. I just want you to know, in case anything happens, that I like you. A lot. I know we just met, but I've never felt like this about anyone before."

Roger reached for her, and Arya had to pull away her hand that had been traveling towards his cheek.

"You don't want to get involved with someone like me." said Arya quietly. "I come with more baggage than you can imagine."

"I'm pretty strong; I think I can manage it."

"You might be strong enough, but I'm not. I'm sorry Roger, but I can't.

Arya did not want to deal with the pleading look on Roger's face. She had always been good at rejecting others and pushing them away. This time it hurt.

She did not meet Roger's eyes as he left the room. This was why she should never have gotten attached to anyone. She worked alone, she lived alone, and she was destined to die alone. Self-hatred flowed through her veins as Arya cursed herself for becoming so weak. She did not need anyone. She had survived by being self-sufficient and now was no time to falter.

The whole day had been overflowing with feelings, coursing through the air, and suffocating Arya under their weight. Life was easier when she remained numb. Arya hardened her heart to protect it from shattering under the force of the pain.

Author's note: Thanks as always to my amazing betareader Badassgenius. Please read and review!

(I'm sorry for the delay and there will be more chapters coming soon.)


	8. Chapter 7

_Earlier that morning. . ._

_Percy cursed foully at the television and turned off the 9 o'clock news broadcast with a forceful jab of the remote. He reached for the phone to dial Amanda's number just as she walked through the door._

"_Assign any resources we can spare to catch Nikita. She must be stopped." Percy felt his blood pressure rising. "When Bentley called, accusing me of stealing his files, I knew Nikita was behind it before he even described her to me. Of course I had a backup plan in mind before anything even went wrong, but the real problem is that Nikita has open access to our intel. This security breach is beyond enormous. I want her taken care of."_

_Amanda calmly surveyed Percy's flushed face._

"_You can't let this turn into a personal matter. When we lose our objectivity, we start making mistakes, and Nikita will take full advantage of any errors in our judgment."_

_The phone rang. Amanda watched Percy's face turn an even more impressive shade of purple and she wisely left the room._

_Percy called Michael down to his office. Michael had seen the news footage, and it was evident that Percy had just gotten reprimanded by Oversight. Percy informed Michael that Amanda would be handling Percy's exposure problem and that Michael should focus his efforts on Nikita. She was now a top priority. _

_Michael sighed. He was in for a long week._

_Nikita turned off the news with a smile of satisfaction. The first story about the photographs had aired that morning, and it was played again at the midday news. She had delivered the photos of Percy and the case of arsenic to a local news station in the middle of the previous night so that the photos would be displayed that morning. The news station had not had time to figure out Percy's identity, but his face was everywhere. The news was full of wild terrorist theories, all of them wrong of course. Percy's superiors at Oversight, the organization created to keep an eye on Division, would not be pleased with Percy's exposure even though they undoubtedly covered their tracks. Anything that made trouble for Percy was a plus in Nikita's book._

_Sipping a celebratory glass of wine, Nikita had little else to do but wait for Alex to inform her of another impending mission. The computer was quiet the whole rest of the day._

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By the next morning, Nikita started to worry that she had not heard from Alex. It had been an entire day. Right on cue, the computer beeped.

_You there, sensei? Got a big evaluation coming up._

_What's the evaluation?_

_Interrogating a prisoner Division just brought in._

_Dig what you can. Send info ASAP._

Nikita hoped that her protégée was strong enough to handle undertaking a full blown interrogation. From Nikita's experience with Division, such interrogations ended in blood.

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Alex sat in the medical wing with an ice pack on her bruised throat. Her interrogation had been an utter failure. Amanda had instructed Alex to find out the names and locations of the members of the prisoner's terrorist cell. Not only did Alex get nothing out of the prisoner, he had escaped from his restraints and attempted to strangle her. Luckily, Michael had saved her. Alex knew there would be consequences for her actions, or lack thereof. She had shown that she was too weak to electrocute the prisoner even though Amanda had told her to do so. The morning could not have been worse. Except for the part where Michael had held her gently and looked into her eyes with such tenderness. She wouldn't mind doing that again.

When she was feeling better, Alex headed to the exercise room. She did not feel like lifting weights, so she hit the treadmill. After a few minutes, Michael emerged from the communications room. The recruits stopped what they were doing and stood at attention.

"You are going to be heading to an off sight training ground." Michael explained. "Bring your A-game."

Alex wondered what they would be doing. In Division, there was no such thing as a good surprise. Thom came over to talk to her and Alex was unsure if she should avoid him or not. The night before Thom had come to talk to Alex and he kissed her. Alex had pulled away, which clearly hurt Thom's feelings. It was too late to make a move. Thom had already reached Alex.

She played it cool, chatting nonchalantly, unsure of her feelings towards him. Yesterday morning her emotions had seemed so clear cut, but her automatic reaction when he kissed her was to pull away. That had to count for something also.

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Arya sat alone on the bus, ignoring Chad when he came and sat next to her, and continued her attempt to see through the tinted windows. If her genes had to have been screwed with, why could they have given her x –ray vision? This training exercise was the first time Arya had been outside of Division, and she needed to know where she was.

Alex and Thom sat in the row in front of her. Arya had turned down Alex's offer that they sit together as part of her new plan to remain detached. The bus rocked slightly as they traveled down a winding road, pushing Alex towards Thom. She braced herself against the seat, trying not to lean into him.

"Listen." Thom said with a sigh. "About the other night, I just want you to know that it wasn't a big deal."

"So you go around trying to hook up with all of the recruits?" Alex teased.

"No, I think you're mixing me up with Chad."

"What about getting with Jaden?"

"That started before you got here, but it's over now. What I meant was that I'm not expecting anything else out of it. I mean it was . . ."

"Just a kiss." interrupted Alex harshly. "I know."

She swallowed and looked away.

"I got it." said Alex softly.

Arya refused to worry about Roger. He had been sent on an assignment, but that was because he was a good agent and was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He would be fine and didn't need her concern.

Chad had been uncharacteristically silent for a few moments, but of course that had to come to an end.

"It's a shame to see a frown on such a pretty face." Chad began. "I bet I can make you smile."

"You never run out of cheesy one-liners, do you Chad?"

"Nope, it's all part of my irresistible British charm."

She snorted in response.

"Some people just don't know when to give up. I'm not interested."

Suddenly, the bus began to shake and without warning it screeched to a stop. The guards yelled to the recruits to get down on the floor just as bullets began to fly. The glass windows shattered, sending a blinding flurry of shards through the air. Arya kept her hands over her face to protect her eyes, and she heard men with machine guns bursting through the doors of the bus.

The masked men began ushering the recruits off the bus. One man grabbed Thom and whacked him across the face with his weapon. Alex screamed and then a blow to the head sent her crashing, unconscious to the ground. Arya watched with horror as her friends were dragged off the bus. Another man came over, gesturing with his gun for Chad to get out of the way. He hesitated and received a jab to the stomach in response. Doubling over, Chad went into the aisle of the bus, but his eyes were on Arya. She motioned for him to go. There was nothing he could do. Pointing his gun at her, the man beckoned for Arya to come closer. He wrapped one arm around her neck in a choke hold, and Arya quickly succumbed to darkness.

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Arya groggily blinked her eyes open. The lighting was dim and she seemed to be in an old storage area. She was seated in a chair with her hands secured behind her with handcuffs, and her feet were similarly restrained. A loose chain around her waist prevented her from rising without the clanking chain attracting the attention of the guard, but if left alone Arya would be able to wriggle out of it.

Realizing she was awake, the guard got up and left the room. Seconds after, another man entered. He appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent judging from his olive toned skin, dark hair, and brown eyes. He smiled cruelly.

"My brother was kidnapped from his home by the people you work for. I want him back and am prepared to do whatever it takes to retrieve him. You can make this painless and tell me where he is, or you will force me to use less pleasant methods of extracting information."

"I don't know what you're talking about." said Arya, clearly scared.

"Perhaps this will jog your memory."

He held up a creased photograph and with a jolt Arya recognized the face. It was the Egyptian man that Division had brought in for interrogation that morning.

"I swear I've never seen this person before in my life."

He leaned in closer so that she could feel the heat of his breath on her face.

"You see, the problem is I don't believe you."

A piercing scream came from the other side of the wall. Alex.

"What are you doing to my friend?"

"Nothing nearly as bad as what I will do to you if you continue to not cooperate with me. Your friend is being treated to an electric shock, but I have a much better interrogation method in mind."

Knowing what was coming next, Arya fought to keep the bile from rising in her throat. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening.

The Egyptian tilted her chin so that her tear-filled eyes met his. He kissed her greedily while wrapping his fingers around her throat. Her surroundings began to swim and her lungs strained for air but none was forthcoming. She twisted against the chains that bound her to no avail. Just before she passed out, the hands constricting her throat were removed. Arya gasped for air to fill her burning lungs.

"Now," he whispered, pulling at the straps of her tank top, "tell me where my brother is."

"I don't know." she cried desperately. "Please, I don't know."

"Your decision." he shrugged.

Next door, Alex tried to fight the pain of the electric shock, but she could feel her resistance breaking down. She knew that soon she would have to tell her captor something. Alex needed to play the next few minutes very carefully if she wanted to get out alive.

Amanda, Percy, and Birkhoff watched the interrogations with interest as though they were a fascinating movie. They had no sympathy for Alex or Arya. Equally interesting was the way Michael kept squirming in his seat at the sound of the screaming.

"Is this all really necessary?" Michael asked finally.

"Absolutely." replied Amanda. "Alex was too weak to shock her subject and she needs to realize that her enemies won't show the same hesitation. Arya has to understand that for the rest of her life, men are going to want her. She needs to learn to use that to her advantage, to be the dominant one in the relationship. It's time for her to comprehend the potency of her femininity."

The recruits were being analyzed, every move documented by the security cameras in the warehouse. They needed to pass this test or face cancellation.

Arya's kidnapper lit up a cigarette and lazily blew a puff of smoke in her direction. Coughing, she turned her face away as the smoke stung her eyes and filled her lungs. He took a few more drags and put out the cigarette on her arm. Arya gritted her teeth as her flesh burned but did not give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out. Ten minutes and several burns later, despite his persistence, Arya had not told the man who she worked for. However, he showed Arya his weakness.

He kissed her again with passion, digging his fingers into her skin, when his walkie-talkie squawked. The Egyptian did not respond to the call even after his comrades tried to contact him several more times. At long last, he picked up the device and spoke into it in Arabic. He ended the conversation and turned back to Arya.

He tore off her tank top, ripping the thin fabric to shreds. He felt her hyperventilating against him and smelled the arousing scent of her fear. He reached to unzip his jeans.

"Wait." Arya said and he paused. "I really don't know anything about your brother, but my bosses might. Let me go, and I can find out where your brother is. Give me some way to reach you, and I promise I'll find out everything I can."

"What guarantee do I have that you'll keep your word?"

"You have my friend. I would do it for her."

"Not good enough. Who says you won't just forget about your friend and not tell me anything?"

Arya knew what she had to do. With a deep breath, Arya resolved to do what it took to get out of this mess alive.

"Listen," Arya whispered seductively, "I want my freedom. I want to live. And it's very clear what you want."

A downward glance confirmed her suspicions.

"Why don't we make a trade? Then we can each get what we want."

Arya smiled enticingly at the Egyptian. She arched forward in her chair and gave him an electrifying kiss on the lips. His body tingled and he could not hold himself back.

Amanda watched with satisfaction as Arya passed her test. Amanda had specifically instructed the Egyptian to present Arya with the opportunity to use her body to free herself. Arya caught on and was performing spectacularly. Alex's reaction was equally pleasing. She had held her ground when showed the picture of the terrorist's brother and was manipulating her captor to see Division as their common enemy.

The lessons and training in seduction that Arya had received while she was a government assassin began to come back to her. She allowed his hands to roam her body to while his lips remained frantically locked on hers. Her captor was having difficulty removing the rest of her clothes because of the cuffs, so he just ripped them to pieces in an animal-like frenzy. He was smart enough not to free her but was still caught up in the heat of the moment. With his attention occupied, Arya focused on her escape.

She rotated her hands in the handcuffs to precisely the right degree and pushed down hard on her thumb until she felt it break. The Egyptian mistook her grunt of pain to be one of pleasure and pressed against her more intensely. Arya was then able to bend her thumb even further and slide one hand out of the cuff. She swung around her other arm with the cuffs still attached to it, letting the metal slam into her kidnapper's head with a sickening thud.

He lay on the ground bleeding profusely from the gash on the back of his head. Arya had to free her legs before he woke up, so she searched his pockets and located the key. Once she unlocked the chains and let the blood flow back into her ankles, Arya removed his sweater. Her clothes had been completely destroyed and she needed something to wear. The sweater barely came below her waist.

She then debated what to do with the man. Her old self would have killed him in a heartbeat, but Arya hesitated. She jumped at the sound of a gunshot. With a strangled cry, it hit Arya that Alex was undoubtedly dead.

Alex probably had refused to talk and was killed for it. The time for mourning would be later. For now, Arya had to find a way out. The room was windowless, so she searched for some kind of ventilation system. Leaving through the door was by far the least appealing option because then she would have to tussle with other members of the terrorist cell. However, it seemed as though the room was unventilated and that there was no other exit besides the door. The sound of footsteps coming down the hall spurred Arya to action. She opened the door slowly and saw that the coast was clear. Arya sprinted for the exit, running for her life.

Both annoyed and impressed at the recruits' defeat of their captors, Percy ordered the Division agents on standby to retrieve Alex and Arya before they got too far. Alex had successfully escaped through the ventilation duct and Arya was heading through the warehouse towards the back door of the building.

Author's Note: Will they make it? Will I change the story from the original episode? Find out in the next chapter! A huge thank you to Badassgenius for your diligent proofreading skills and making sure that I don't embarrass myself. Feedback is love!


	9. Chapter 8

Alex crawled on her hands and knees through the ventilation tunnel following the breeze from outside. Reaching the end of the shaft, Alex jumped out and fell several feet into a woody area. Alex ran through the trees and reached a highway. She followed the road, careful to stay out of sight of the passing cars. Panting and sweating, Alex reached a gas station where she found a phone booth. The booth filled with the sound of her heart pounding during the eternity it took for Nikita to pick up the phone.

Arya barely dodged the bullet that zinged over her left shoulder as she frantically ran out the door of the warehouse. A member of the terrorist cell chased after her, trying to run and fire his gun at the same time. The sound of vehicles drove her forward towards the highway. Arya ran into the middle of the highway and tried to flag down a car. A rundown truck stopped, and the driver rolled down his window.

"Help me!" she cried.

Seeing the half-naked, dirty girl, the driver either took pity on her or was hoping that she was desperate enough to sleep with him. The door swung open and Arya hopped into the car just as the terrorist caught up to her. He raised his weapon and aimed the gun, but the truck drove away and he missed. Luckily, the truck driver did not notice the commotion behind him on the road because his phone was ringing.

"Hi sweetie." he said into the phone. "Sleep tight. Love you."

Arya decided that she had nothing to fear from the driver. He hung up the phone and turned to her.

"What happened to you?" he asked, concerned. "What were you running from?"

Arya burst into tears.

"My friend and I were hiking in the woods back there, and this man with a gun came out of nowhere. He took us to this warehouse and locked us inside. We were there for this whole day and then my friend tried to run away, but he . . . he shot her."

She sobbed harder and wrapped her arms around herself. The driver was horrified.

"We can call the police right now and they can grab that son of a bitch. How did you get away?"

"I was so scared. I managed to pull my hand through the handcuffs and I hit him and knocked him out. I found the keys in his pocket and ran as hard as I could."

The girl was mumbling and barely coherent through her tears. She needed serious medical attention.

"My name is Joseph. What's your name?"

"Arya."

"I'm going to take you to a hospital, so that they can check you out. Then we can contact the police and you can tell them what happened to you. Okay?"

She nodded, shivering because she only wore a baggy sweater and underwear. Arya felt filthy as much from allowing her captor to touch her as from the dirt of the warehouse. The burns on her arm throbbed painfully, and her broken thumb had swelled to twice its normal size. Every bump in the road sent shooting pains that reverberated through her arm. Joseph noticed that Arya was cold, pulled over to the side of the road, and got a blanket out of the back of the truck. It was pink with white bunnies on it.

"When my daughter was little, after her mom died, I would have to take her with me on my trucking jobs. She always slept in this blanket. It was her favorite."

"Where is she now?"

"She's off at college, but she still calls so that I can say goodnight to her."

"That's sweet." murmured Arya sleepily.

Within minutes, she was out like a light. The adrenaline from her crazy day had worn off, leaving her exhausted. Her body was shutting down to give her mind some respite from her ordeal.

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"We need to contain the situation now before the recruits make contact with anyone and reveal information about Division." commanded Percy.

Birkhoff initiated their trackers.

"Alex is going due east and at a good pace, too. She'll hit a gas station soon if she isn't there already. Arya seems to be in a car on the highway. There's no way to know where she's headed yet."

"Michael, I want you to head over there with a team and pick up Alex. Birkoff will contact you when we have more news on Arya."

"It's just one recruit. I'll go alone."

"Alex has been here long enough to know vital information about Division. We can't risk her making contact and exposing us."

"Who would she talk to? As far as the world is concerned, she's just a dead junkie."

With that, Michael left the room.

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Nikita answered the phone, her voice flooding Alex with relief.

"Hello?"

"It's me." Her strangled, panicked voice alerted Nikita to the fact that something was terribly wrong.

"What happened?" Nikita asked quickly.

"I was kidnapped by terrorists, by the brother of the man that I interrogated at Division this morning. I had to kill him to escape. I killed him; I can't believe I killed him."

"Just slow down. Where are you now?" Nikita's tone was calm and reassuring, but she was worried. Something did not feel right about the incident.

"I'm, um, I'm at a gas station off of I-95."

"Where were you when they kidnapped you?"

"We were on a bus, a bus that was taking us to some training ground somewhere. For an exercise. Why does it matter? Just come get me."

"And the prisoner you questioned this morning, he was a terrorist too?"

"Yes, yes, he was a terrorist. He was part of the group that took me. Why does it matter? I'm standing here, freezing and covered in dirt. Can't the debrief wait until later?"

"When I was in training, I had to interrogate a member of the Chinese secret service. When I woke up in the morning, I was in a Chinese prison. They claimed that I had assassinated the Chinese president and wanted to know who I worked for. It turns out that it was all a test concocted by Division to see how I would react to the situation."

"Are you saying that the man I killed was a Division agent?" screamed Alex, her hysteria reaching new levels. "Oh my God! What are they going to do to me?"

"Listen to me." said Nikita firmly. "It's going to be fine."

"Just come get me."

"I will be there as soon as I can."

Hanging up the phone, Alex sank to her knees. There was no way she would face Division's wrath and come out unscathed. Hopefully, she would at least emerge alive.

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Joseph was driving well above the speed limit, but he did not care. Arya had fallen asleep, and he was worried that she had a concussion. Time was of the essence as he sped towards the closest hospital. There was no telling what had happened to Arya or what kind of treatment she would need. Joseph kept thinking of his little girl, now eighteen, who was probably the same age as Arya. There must be some other father out there who was worried sick about his own daughter. Joseph thought about how unbelievably horrible he would feel if his daughter was missing and pressed harder on the accelerator.

The truck came screeching to a halt in the hospital parking lot. Joseph hastily parked and scooped Arya out of the passenger's seat, careful not to jostle her. She was still wrapped in the blanket. He ran to the emergency wing and stopped at the front desk.

"This girl Arya flagged me down on the highway a few miles west of here. She said that she had been kidnapped. First she needs a doctor, and then we should call the police. I don't know for sure what's wrong with her but her left thumb is broken and she had burns on her arm."

The hospital was fairly quiet, so Arya was taken to be examined right away by a nurse. Joseph waited outside the examination room, not wanting to disturb her privacy. He paced the halls until the nurse emerged.

"How is she?" he asked anxiously.

"Her left thumb was fractured, she has several first degree cigarette burns on her right forearm, there is bruising around her throat and possible damage there, and she is mildly dehydrated. I have her hooked up to an IV for now, and her burns are bandaged. I put her thumb in a splint, but we'll have to wait until the morning to set it in a cast. I'll also call in a mental health specialist to assess her psychological state."

The nurse spoke in a businesslike tone, but it was clear that she had treated Arya with kindness.

"Can we call the police now and see if anyone filed a missing person's report?"

"Yes." said the nurse, looking at Joseph strangely. "Yes we can. Come with me to the front desk."

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Michael's cell phone rang while he was in the car on the way to the gas station to retrieve Alex.

"Yes." he said brusquely.

"It's Birkhoff. We found Arya. Her tracker shows that she's at a hospital about ten minutes from where you are."

"I'll be there soon."

Michael hung up the phone, doubt gnawing at his insides. Was he really doing the right thing by getting Alex and Arya? Should he try to help them go free? There was no point. Division had always liked to brag that none of their recruits ever went rogue. Then Nikita came along. But even before her, recruits attempted to escape, but Division retained its bragging rights because none of them ever made it out alive except for Nikita. Regardless of whether Michael helped the girls or not, they would end up dead if they ran. He could protect them better from inside Division.

Nikita pulled into the gas station and jumped out of her red jeep. Alex saw her mentor and ran towards her. Hearing her name, she spun around. Michael had found her. Nikita quickly ducked out of the way and hid behind a gas pump.

"I was afraid someone else had gotten to you first." he said, coming towards her.

"These, these men they took me." Alex began.

"I know." interrupted Michael. "I saw the whole thing go down. It was all part of an exercise run by Division."

"You're sick." she spat. "You made me kill somebody during your little 'exercise'."

"No! That was the agent's fault, not yours. You did what you had to do to survive."

Michael took her arm and brought her to his car.

"What's going to happen to me now?" she asked her temporary anger replaced by fear.

"We're going to make this right. I promise. I won't let them do anything to you." He leaned closer, his eyes locked on hers. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"I'm not going to lose you too." he added softly.

Nikita had stood with her gun at the ready, prepared to shoot Michael if she got the chance. Hearing his words, she knew that he was talking about her. She lowered her gun, pretending that the wetness on her cheeks was just rain.

Michael and Alex entered the car as the sky opened up. They drove off, leaving Nikita and Alex's chance at freedom behind.

"Where are we going?" asked Alex suspiciously, pretty sure that Division lay in the other direction.

"Arya was taken from the bus like you were. She managed to escape as well and hitch a ride to the hospital. We need to go bring her back with us to Division."

Alex did not miss Michael's usage of "we" and "us."

When they arrived at the hospital, Michael suggested that Alex should stay in the car and rest for a few minutes. Too tired to argue, Alex leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. Michael hurried inside the hospital and found the ER. He cautiously approached a nurse.

"Excuse me. I'm looking for my girlfriend. She went missing this morning, so the police wouldn't let me file a missing person's report, but I know something is wrong. She was hiking with a friend around here and was supposed to call me. She didn't call and she never forgets to call. I must have tried to contact her a hundred times, but her phone went straight to voicemail. I've been searching all the local hospitals, but I haven't found her. I'm just scared that something happened to her."

Michael ran his hands through his hair, the picture of worry.

"Maybe I can help you. What does she look like?

"She's tall with black wavy hair and greyish green eyes. Her skin is on the tan side and her eyes crinkle when she smiles."

"Oh my God." gasped the nurse, her brown eyes wide. "I just treated a girl who looked like that."

"Where is she? What happened? Is she okay?"

"Come with me." said the nurse, leading the way in her sea green scrubs. "Your girlfriend should be fine in a few days. A truck driver found her on the highway. He said that she told him she was kidnapped while hiking. I thought the driver was lying. I assumed that he was her father and he was the one who hurt her. We have abusive parents in here all the time who feel bad for what they did and take their kids to the hospital. Then, they pretend like their kids had gotten in accidents, and I thought this was more of the same."

"What do you mean she was kidnapped? How hurt is she?"

"I'm not really sure what happened to her, but she has a broken thumb and some small burns."

"Where is the driver? I need to thank him."

"He's here, outside her room."

Michael saw the burly, older man leaning against the wall. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his worn jeans. He looked up at the sound of Michael's footsteps.

"You saved Arya's life, thank you so much. I don't know how I can ever repay you."

"Are you her family?" asked Joseph, shaking Michael's hand.

"I'm her boyfriend, Michael. We've been together for two years. I knew something was wrong when she never called me this morning and didn't pick up her phone when I tried to reach her."

"The police are on their way to hear what Arya has to say. I hope whoever did this gets the justice he deserves. She reminds me a lot of my daughter, and I can't even imagine how her parents will feel when they find out."

"On behalf of Arya and her family, is there any way I can compensate you for helping her?"

"No, I don't need anything. I just want to know that she's safe."

"I won't leave her side."

"I don't want to overstep any boundaries, but I can stay if you need anything."

"Oh, that's so kind of you, but it's really not necessary. I can take it from here."

"Alright. Well, good luck to you both." he said, unsure of the right words to say in such a situation.

Michael entered the hospital room and came over the bed where Arya was lying sedated by painkillers. She barely reacted to his presence and did not seem to notice when he pulled out her IV. When the coast was clear, Michael picked her up and ran out of the hospital, taking care to avoid being seen by the nurses. There was no way the hospital could trace either of their identities, so it would soon give up trying to figure out what had really happened that night for lack of evidence.

By the time Michael reentered the car with Arya, both Alex and Arya were asleep. He placed Arya in the back seat next to her friend and drove back to Division with a knot in his chest. Alex woke up as Michael opened the car door.

"Let's go inside. And don't worry, everything will be fine."

Arya was still out from the painkillers, so Michael carried her inside. When they returned to Division, Percy was waiting with Amanda. Arya blearily opened her eyes, still feeling drowsy. Michael put her down gently next to . . . Alex? She was alive?

"Alex? I thought you were dead. I heard a gunshot and I thought . . . I'm glad you're okay."

Arya gave Alex a small smile. It wasn't worth it to go through life without anyone to care about. Friends could be a liability, but they were also a gift. Having friends meant that Arya was human, and humans were not made to be alone.

One of the hired agents, Ahmed, walked out of the communications room, snapping Arya out of the haze of drugs.

"That's him." she cried, pointing at Ahmed. "He's the one that kidnapped me!"

"You didn't tell her?" asked Percy.

"She was asleep." answered Michael shortly.

"Tell me what?" asked Arya warily.

"This was all a Division exercise. None of it was real." said Alex.

"The pain was real." Arya growled. "Do you have any idea what it cost me to make out with _him_?"

"We know exactly what you sacrificed to seduce Ahmed. But you also liberated yourself from Carlos while doing so. That was the point of your interrogation. Congratulations Arya, you passed the test. I know that you're upset, but you'll realize how much freer you are now. You are your own woman, able to have the man that _you_ choose. Carlos can't control you and your womanhood anymore."

Arya planned to storm out the room in a huff but instead vomited into the nearest garbage can. Michael reached out to help her, but she gave him a withering glare and he backed off. Slightly dizzy, Arya managed the most dramatic exit that she could and returned to her room. Ordinarily, she would have kept her rage about the "training exercise" to herself, but she was now a normal girl who could be expected to get angry. It was funny, Arya mused, that normally when she got angry it was bad for her cover, but when she had things under control then she was allowed to be upset.

Back in the training room, Michael shifted his weight from foot to foot anxiously.

"This is your idea of handling things?" asked Percy scornfully.

"What is he talking about?" Alex questioned.

"On the outside, a body pegs a lot of questions." said Michael. "But in here, no one will question anything. I think this will best be taken care of on sublevel six."

The realization of her situation dawned on Alex as she was grabbed by three guards. She shrieked at the top of her lungs, but no one could help her.

"You promised." she screamed at Michael, as they carried her off.

"That won't be necessary." said Percy, putting up his hand.

The guards allowed Alex to break free from their grip.

"Alex wasn't the test subject today Michael." said Percy. "Well, she wasn't the only one."

Amir exited the elevator, very much alive. Alex had not killed him after all.

"I don't understand." Michael said, looking to Percy for an explanation.

"Well Agent Kumera had a gun that was loaded with blanks. He was given strict orders to let her escape."

Michael swallowed. He had been played.

"Nikita has been off the radar for three days, and you're already so bored that you have to start playing puppeteer to amuse yourself?" Michael practically shouted.

"And yet you keep talking about Nikita, and it's like you're making my point for me." said Percy.

"Feel free to tell me what that is any time." countered Michael.

"As I said before," started Percy, "there was only one time where I ever doubted your loyalty. And my concern was that this was going to be another Nikita."

"Did I pass your test?"

"For the most part." decided Percy.

Amanda watched the exchange with interest. She filed it away to use to her advantage at a later date.

"You're sick." interrupted Alex with venom. "_Both_ of you."

Michael could not believe that Percy actually had the nerve to look surprised at Alex's outburst.

"Both of you." Alex repeated, looking at Michael with disgust.

Percy smiled.

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Finally having the chance to shower and change, Alex sat on her bed and angrily threw a tennis ball at the wall. Michael opened her door and barely caught the ball that she aimed at his head.

"I just came by to talk." he said, meeting her furious glare.

"Why should I listen to you." she responded sullenly and turned her back on him. She punctuated every fury filled sentence by throwing the ball at the wall another time. "One minute you're telling me that it's all gonna be okay and the next you're kissing Percy's ass. Ready to cancel me. Like everybody else in here. A liar."

Michael took it as a good sign that she was at least talking to him.

"You've been in Division long enough to know that there are many kinds of tests. And they're run at every hour of the day. Sometimes you have no idea you're being tested, and other times you do."

"So what?" said Alex. "You're telling me that you knew that Percy was testing you the whole time and you expect me to believe that?"

Alex wanted so badly to believe him.

"The truth is what we choose to believe." said Michael.

He truly was a part of Division, mastering their infuriating ability to talk without giving an answer at all. Alex could not detect from the subtleties of Michael's speech if he knew about the test or not.

"What I told you at the truck stop was the truth." said Michael finally.

Alex felt her rage break down to tears, but she blinked them back. She turned to Michael to say something, but he was already out the door. She sighed, her anger dissipated, leaving behind her conflicting feelings. Michael paused outside the room but turned away and continued down the hall.


	10. Chapter 9

Michael knocked on the door of Percy's office.

"Come it, but make it quick." said Percy tersely.

"I was just wondering, sir, how exactly are you taking care of the exposure issue with the pictures?"

"Our trainee Roger is going to frame a forger for photo-shopping me into the pictures and the police will shoot the forger. Nice and clean with no lose ends."

"Oh, I see." said Michael, as though Percy made perfect sense. But Michael did know enough to be able to guess Percy's plan. He knew enough to know that an innocent would be sacrificed to throw the media off Percy's trail.

"Is that all?" asked Percy.

Michael nodded.

"I can handle this little problem and I can handle Oversight. Be sure of that."

"Of course, sir."

Just how Percy was going to "handle" Oversight was a mystery even to him, but the wheels of Percy's mind were always turning. He hated that Division had to answer to Oversight. Percy and his organization did not need to be encumbered by the miles of red tape that surrounded every questionable operation. In order to function at its highest capacity, Division needed to be autonomous. Rather, it needed to be under Percy's sole control. Eventually Percy would hatch the perfect scheme and that day would come soon enough.

…...

Roger walked down the dimly lit street in New Orleans, grateful that the mission was almost over. But the hardest part was yet to come. It was almost midnight, and by the time the next morning rolled around he would be back at Division. After being isolated from the world for nearly a year, it felt strange to be allowed outside with no one watching him. This was as close to freedom as Roger had come in a long time.

He passed a drug deal going down in a back alley littered with filth. Many of the lights from the street were broken, probably shot out to hide whatever illegal activity was occurring. The gesturing from the men in the alley grew wilder and Roger could see that the deal was going to end badly. Someone pulled out a knife and blood was spurting everywhere. Either the murderer or the soon to be corpse could have very easily been Roger if Division had not picked him up off the streets. For that, Roger was grateful. Division saved his life and got him clean, but then they made him a killer all the same. At least here, Roger killed for the good of his country not just for his own personal gain.

A young woman marched hurriedly along the sidewalk opposite Roger. Unlike most of the neighborhood women out at that hour, she was fully covered in a set of foam green scrubs. When she noticed him, she instinctively tightened her grip on the purse slung over her shoulder. The familiar pang of hurt was just as painful as ever. Roger was sick of being treated like a criminal just because he was a tall black man. He was truly sorry that the woman was scared, but he was also a human being. Roger knew that he deserved better. An idea came to him. Wetting his lips, Roger began to whistle Vivaldi's "Four Seasons." At the sound of the classic, beautiful melody, the woman relaxed and even gave Roger a smile. Roger was able to come to terms with who he was and who he was expected to be. He had to do whatever was necessary to protect his country, but he would not harm an innocent.

He reached the location of the storefront where the forger set up shop. Roger had spent the past twenty four hours trying to find his target, Jean-Pierre Lefèvre. Division was able to track him to the French Quarter of New Orleans, but Lefévre had proven hard to find. The man was paranoid and reasonably so. He and Roger were part of a gang that sold drugs and fake IDs. Lefévre was their forger and he was damn good, too. He just made the mistake of selling a fake driver's license to an undercover cop, so he ran and had been hiding ever since.

Roger had been appointed to the mission because of his connection with Lefévre. Amanda, in particular, felt that the assignment would sever any remaining ties Roger had to the outside, civilian world. There was no alternative. This man was no innocent, and Roger knew better than anyone what Lefévre had done. Roger had to lead Lefévre to his death.

A light in the window of the store was lit despite the late hour. Roger knocked on the door using the gang's old code. Lefévre recognized the code and opened the door albeit with a gun in hand. He had not aged well. Lefévre looked more gaunt than Roger remembered, and he had a hint of grey at his temples.

"Que voulez-vous?" (What do you want?)

"I just want to talk to an old friend." said Roger. "How have you been, man? We've all been worried about you. You should have come to us; we could have helped."

"It's good to see you, brother, but you know I couldn't have met up with you. I'm sure our apartment was the first place the cops looked for me."

"Enough about the past. Let's talk about the future. I have a job for you. I was in the area and heard about a business opportunity for someone with your skillset. I figured you could use the work."

"What's the job?"

"I need you to take this picture and photo-shop this man out of it, but the result has to be flawless. That's why I came to you."

"You know me. I am a perfectionist. How much can you pay?"

"Five hundred now and double that after I get the final product."

"Not bad. Who's your employer?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

"What about the guy I'm cutting out of the picture?"

"I can't say, man." said Roger again.

"I know, I know." Lefévre said calmly. "I was just curious. You been in town long?"

"Long enough."

"So you came here just for me?" Lefévre was not asking.

Roger shrugged.

"I heard you were down here, and I wanted to help you out. We still need to have each other's backs."

"Alright." said Lefévre. "I'll get on it right away."

"I'll give you a bonus if you get it done quickly. How does an extra three hundred sound if you have it for tomorrow morning?"

"Sure thing, man. Thanks for the work."

"No problem."

Lefévre reached out and gave Roger a firm handshake. Roger rushed out of the store before Lefévre could see the guilty look on his face.

The first step of the plan was complete. Roger then jogged to the police station. The city was fairly quiet and traveling on foot was less noticeable than riding in a taxi. Pulling a note out of the pocket of his jeans and making sure his face was securely covered with the hood of his sweatshirt, Roger slipped the piece of paper underneath the door of the station. He went around to a window on the side of the building with his head still hidden from the security cameras and waited for the policemen to notice the note on the floor. One man picked it up and read the contents of Roger's message. He called over the other agents to try to determine whether or not the note was legitimate. The policemen agreed that it was worth an investigation and headed to a patrol car.

Lefévre's base was only about a mile away from the station. Once the police car pulled out of the parking lot, Roger sprinted after it. He reached Lefévre about five minutes after the car arrived. Roger was glad that he could still run a seven minute mile. While bending over to catch his breath, Roger surveyed the scene that was unfolding before him.

The policemen were shouting through a megaphone that Lefévre had to exit the premises or they would storm Lefévre's shop. Roger ran around the shop and climbed onto the roof as silent as a ghost. His dark clothes concealed his presence. He laid on the roof like a sniper, ignoring the shingles that dug into his chest, and trained his gun on the policemen.

Lefévre opened the front door cautiously peeking out his head. The policemen immediately pointed their weapons at his head. He slowly exited the shop and the policemen realized too late that he had a gun. Within seconds, one man was down and another was clutching his wounded shoulder. The two remaining officers fired simultaneously, and Lefévre went down under a hail of gunfire.

One agent collected the dead man and the other tended to the wounded officer. As soon as an ambulance came to take the men to a hospital, the two healthy policemen searched Lefévre's shop and found the evidence as explained in the note they were given that Lefévre had doctored the photo that was sweeping news stations across the country. It was clear that the news story had been fabricated completely and the sale of arsenic had never taken place. The whole scandal was simply the work of an individual who hated the government and had acted to bring chaos to the United States. Other files had been found on his computer that suggested ties to fanatical anti-American organizations. The media sensation about the arsenic quickly died down thereafter.

The chief of police was puzzled about one detail of the account of the shootout. He knew that his men were justified in killing Lefévre, of that he was positive. But the autopsy report on the two men showed that the bullet that killed the cop – and the one that prompted the other policemen to shoot to kill – had been fired from a different trajectory than the other bullets from Lefévre's gun. However, the bullet that killed the policeman was fired from the same type of gun as the other bullets. The police chief quickly dismissed the notion that someone else had shot the dead policeman. It simply made no sense. Lefévre was simply trying to take down as many people as he could once he saw that he was surrounded.

Roger stopped on the sidewalk and threw up into the bushes. He had betrayed his former partner, his brother. Lefévre was no saint and he had committed countless crimes. Some might say it was karma; that Lefévre had it coming. But who was Roger to execute judgment? Killing Lefévre had been for the greater good. Kill one, save many more. That was Division's motto. On the way to the operation, Roger had convinced himself that it was true. Now he wasn't so sure.

Dizzy, Roger stood up and nearly fell onto the woman standing next to him. With surprising strength, she helped him find his balance. Roger looked at his savior and was startled by her appearance. Her skin was completely pale and was offset by black hair that had been pulled back into pigtails. Her alert, light green eyes twinkled and her deep red lips parted in a smile. She was dressed in all black and teetered slightly in her high heels.

"I almost never wear high heels," she giggled, "so when I do I get a little tipsy. Well, actually it's the whisky I've been drinking that makes me tipsy. I was at a funeral, you see, and it was an Irish funeral and there was a wake before which means there was a lot of drinking. I never understood why people drink alcohol when they're upset since a depressant, but here I am totally drunk."

"Do you have any whisky left? I sure could use some." admitted Roger. "I lost someone today too."

"Sure thing." she said, slurring slightly. "I'm Abby by the way."

"Roger. I actually have a plane to catch in an hour, but until then let's get plastered."

"Sounds like a plan."

Abby led Roger to the house where her family had gathered after the funeral and snuck him through the back. They headed upstairs after snatching a bottle of whisky from a well-stocked liquor cabinet that was left over from the wake. They sat on the floor of a bedroom passing the bottle back and forth until the pain of Lefévre's death had dulled considerably and everything was suddenly hilarious. Abby was witty even when inebriated. During a lull in conversation, Roger cocked his head and looked at her. Within seconds they were kissing heatedly with the desperate need to fill the void of grief.

"What the hell is going on here Abigail?" shouted an elderly woman from the doorway.

"Uh, sorry Nana." said Abby sheepishly.

"I'd better go if I want to catch my flight." said Roger awkwardly. "It was nice meeting you even if the circumstances were a bit – "

"Sucky?"

"Yeah."

"Well, bye."

"Bye." said Roger, tipping an imaginary hat to Abby's grandmother.

He left the house feeling confused and miraculously found a taxi to take him to the airport despite the time. Since all Division agents were supposedly dead, they could not travel by airplane except under false passports. It was easier to just train Division pilots to fly cargo planes and have them work for airlines while transporting Division operatives when necessary. Roger sat in the hull of the plane and called Percy.

"It's done. Everything went exactly like you said."

"Good." replied Percy and he hung up.

Everything had gone according to plan except for the guilt eating away at Roger's insides. The whole night seemed completely strange and surreal. Roger could almost convince himself that it had all simply been a bad dream. Almost.


	11. Chapter 10

Roger stepped off the cargo plane feeling exhausted and hung over. Michael was waiting for Roger to escort him back to Division. Percy wanted to keep the mission on the DL, so Michael, Amanda, and Birkhoff were the only ones who knew about its existence besides Percy. And it was doubtful that Percy, Amanda, or Birkhoff ever picked anyone up after a mission, so Michael was left to do the legwork.

The roar of highway traffic was overpoweringly loud, or maybe the sound was really the incessant pounding in Roger's head as a result of drinking way too much the night before. Roger knew there was a reason he tried to stay away from alcohol. He was always told that he made a good drunk, though. When he was younger, Roger's older brothers liked to get him drunk on the beer they bought with fake identification cards. Then he would stumble around like a windup toy babbling good naturedly. A more reserved man while sober, alcohol let Roger loose. He would feel happier and freer until the next morning when he would discover how out of control he had been and how empty he felt.

Michael did not attempt to engage Roger in conversation. He could sense that the recruit's head was somewhere else. Michael understood. The man had killed his former friend. Piece by piece, Division took people's lives away until all that was left was to serve Division since nobody remained on the outside.

When they reached Division, Roger was shepherded straight to Amanda to debrief. They went over each detail of the mission and Roger accounted for every moment that he spent in New Orleans. Except for after Lefévre's death. He just said that he walked around the streets before catching his flight. Some events were just supposed to be personal, and Roger was worried that he had compromised Abby's safety by making contact with her even though she had no idea who he was.

Amanda's keen instincts told her that Roger was hiding something. She took him to an interrogation cell and let him sit for a few hours while she handled other pressing matters. Once her schedule was cleared up and everything else that was crucial was taken care of, Amanda returned to Roger and grilled him again and again about the mission.

The more Amanda questioned him, the more Roger was convinced that he could not tell her about Abby. As time went on, Roger grew tired but stuck to his story. He had to hold out against Amanda's relentless questioning.

…

Arya had discovered a new form of salvation: music. She was excused from training for the day after being brought back to Division the night before so that she could have a few hours to sleep and recuperate. Arya barely needed any sleep and preferred to be awake as much as possible, so she spent all of her free time in Alex's room listening to her friend's radio. Alex had opted to go to training anyway, so Arya had the room to herself. Somehow, music was able to express the feelings that could not be condensed into words.

As an assassin, Arya had no time for music unless it was part of a cover. Carlos had really been the one to introduce Arya to listening to and playing music as a hobby. For a monster, his tastes in music and art were surprisingly refined. He had even bought her a grand piano so that she could play for him. She had learned how to dance, also to get close to a target, and Carlos had arranged for her to take dance lessons when she was with him.

When Arya had first learned all of these skills, she supposed she had liked them well enough. But that was never the purpose for studying them. All of her years of training were not for her enjoyment. They were to better prepare her for changing her identity, espionage, and assassination. With Carlos, she once again picked up old talents, and once again she did not do them for herself. It was all because Carlos wanted her to entertain him. Finally, Arya could act for her own personal pleasure. She refused to allow Carlos's memory to ruin the activities that she wanted to do.

Arya flipped through the stations and stopped on one at random. The sweet, mournful, haunting voice of a woman filled the room. Transfixed, Arya listened to the whole song. After it ended, one phrase echoed in her head again and again. She couldn't stop hearing the phrase "Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken" and it floated around in her mind. Arya wondered, was she broken? The ache inside of her seemed to say yes.

On a whim, Arya pulled out the almost forgotten ballet slippers that Amanda had given her out from under her bed. She had stuffed the note she had been given in the bathroom of the hotel in one of the shoes. Arya knew that it was risky to keep the note she had gotten at her first operation, but it helped give Arya the confidence that she could pull off her plan to bring down Division.

She tiptoed down the hallway to the workout room to make use of the gym mats that covered the floors. It had grown late and Arya was not technically supposed to be out of her room, but she didn't care. Lacing up the shoes brought back memories of Carlos, but Arya was determined to make new memories. Happy ones. She stretched, feeling the warm tug through her muscles as she prepared to dance.

No music was necessary. Arya could hear the song in her head as she moved through a familiar piece that she had choreographed herself as an exercise during one of her dance classes.

….

Michael entered Percy's office demanding an answer. His recruit had been gone the entire day, and Amanda told him nothing about where he was or what was being done to him.

"Where is Roger?"

"Amanda is debriefing him." said Percy simply.

"Don't play games with me. Roger has been gone since eight o'clock this morning. What happened to him?"

"Amanda feels that he is holding something back, and she wants to find out what he's hiding. This mission was of a sensitive nature, and it could be detrimental to Division if something went wrong and he doesn't tell us. That's all."

"Thank you, sir."

Michael walked briskly to Amanda's office and burst in without knocking. It was empty. He then headed to the interrogation rooms and looked inside them one by one. At last, he saw Roger sitting slumped at a table with Amanda circling him menacingly.

"I'm not finished, Michael." she said coldly.

"Yes you are." insisted Michael.

"If he hasn't told you what you want to hear after all this time, he isn't going to talk. Just drop it."

"I've been playing nice, but I can be much more persuasive if the need arises. I can make him talk."

"Forget it. The mission was a success, and now I need my recruit back."

"Fine." growled Amanda, irritated with Roger's failure to talk as well as with Michael's attitude with her.

She left the room in a huff, her heels clicking sharply on the tiled floor.

"We're both going to pay for that later." said Roger wryly. "Amanda's bad side is a bad place to be."

"Don't worry about it." said Michael, placing a hand on Roger's shoulder. "Let's get you back to your room."

"Thanks." said Roger sincerely. "You didn't have to do this for me."

Michael gave him a small smile. He liked Roger. The recruit was frank, honest, and a genuinely good guy. He was someone Michael could have been friends with or played a pickup game of basketball with in another life. But Division was his life now, and the more he got attached to the recruits, the more it would hurt when they were cancelled or killed on a mission. No one lasted too long in Division.

Roger and Michael passed the exercise room on their way back to the sleeping quarters and a sight made them stop. Arya was there and she was . . . dancing. They did not know quite what to make of it. Her eyes were closed and her face serene. She moved with a lithe feline grace when she leapt across the mats as though she was trying to fly away. After some time she seemed to realize that the world of flight was beyond her. She took one final leap, her arms outstretched and fingers reaching for something that was just beyond her grasp. Finally, she plummeted to the ground and folded over like a flower bud waiting to bloom. When she opened her arms and rose slowly to her feet, Roger released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

She looked up, startled, and did not know how to react to Roger.

"I see you made it back in one piece." she said finally.

"Yeah. I'm glad it's all over, though."

"How do you feel?" asked Michael.

"I'm fine. The doc says that I need the cast for another two weeks and then my thumb should be better."

"Good to hear." said Michael.

"What happened?" asked Roger with a hint of worry.

"I'll tell you about it some other time. It was no big deal."

"Well I'm going to escort Roger back to his room, and you should get back to yours." said Michael pointedly. "I won't report you this time, but you need to be in your room after lights out."

"I'll be right there." said Arya.

Unbeknownst to Arya, Chad had also been watching her from the floor above. He jogged easily down the steps and cleared his throat when he came into the room.

"What are you doing here?" wondered Arya.

"I could ask you the same question." Chad answered playfully.

"Just getting some air." she said. "What about you?"

"I couldn't sleep either. Actually, I was hoping to find you. I knocked on your door and you didn't answer so I thought that you might be here."

"What do you want?" Arya asked, somewhat suspicious.

"To apologize." The guilt and hurt was clearly written all over his face. "I should have tried to save you on the bus."

"It's not your fault. The men were Division. There was nothing you could have done. They would have taken me either way."

Chad shook his head.

"I saw what you looked like when Michael brought you back here. You looked like hell, Arya. And I just kept thinking that it was all my fault."

Arya smiled slightly and lifted her eyes to meet his. She gently placed her hand on his cheek and smoothed out the wrinkle in his brow.

"How are you going to chase after the ladies with a frown on your face?" she teased. Chad had really been beating himself up over what had happened to her. "Let's see that famous hundred watt smile.

"Sure thing, sweet cheeks." he grinned.

"Hey. I don't feel _that_ sorry for you. No corny nicknames."

"Okay, Arya." he said seriously. "Can I walk you back to your room?"

"Sure." she responded.

Maybe Chad wasn't so bad after all. His feelings were genuine, and Arya would never have expected him to be mature enough to feel responsible for her torture. Maybe he was changing.

….

The beeping of her computer caught Nikita's attention. She set down her morning cup of coffee, yawned, and opened the shell program. It was a message from Alex.

_Something weird is going on. Percy just dropped everything and is going to Montreal. He was in the middle of an important mission, so it must be really serious for him to split like that. Fill you in with details when I know something._

_ Keep me posted. Canada, here I come._

Nikita smirked. This was going to be good.

After searching online, Nikita booked her flight to Canada. The earliest flight she could find was still several hours away. Not good enough. She scanned the internet for news about Canada, anything that would have prompted Percy to leave with such urgency. A bank robbery caught her attention. Apparently, a bank in Montreal was held up, but a civilian somehow stopped the robbery and disappeared. It had Division written all over it. Nikita could feel it in her bones.

…

Back in the communications room, Michael was making the same conclusion for himself with Birkhoff's help. The computer genius knew better than to mess with Michael when the man wanted something, and Birkhoff was also curious as to why Percy had rushed off to Montreal. Perhaps he was being blackmailed or coerced into doing something? That did not seem likely. There were codes in place for such a situation, and Percy had not used any of them. He seemed worried but not afraid. Michael would get to the bottom of things even if Percy did not see fit to trust him.

The man involved in thwarting the bank robbery was Owen Elliot according to the Montreal news broadcast covering the incident. Birkhoff searched the name through Division's personnel database, but Michael knew that there was no way they would get that lucky. There was no Owen Elliot on file. Michael knew it was because this Owen was working off the books. There was a lot that even Division personnel did not know about their agency. Even though Owen's name did not appear in any file, he was still very much a part of Division. He worked directly for Percy. And the only reason why he contacted Percy was because something went wrong with his assignment.

Between the ongoing issue of Nikita and the tentatively balanced mission happening in Pakistan, whatever Percy was going to do must have been of the utmost importance. Michael had the nagging feeling that Percy was leaving him in charge of a sinking ship.

….

Nikita found Owen's address from the Montreal news broadcast and pulled up in front of the classically pretty apartment building in her rental car. There were cops posted outside the door, and one of them stopped Nikita as she attempted to enter.

"Chill, CSI." she said breezily. "I'm not a reporter. I'm just here to see my friend, is that legal?"

Aware that the cops were watching her, Nikita knocked on the first door she saw. The woman who answered it looked at her expectantly with warm brown eyes and was surprised when Nikita asked to buy the stained glass butterflies that were hanging in the window. She pretended to work for an interior designer, and the woman, Emily, gave her a few pieces of exquisite glass. Nikita casually questioned Emily about the policemen and about Owen.

"He kept to himself." she said, looking uncomfortable. There was clearly more going on there.

Nikita then dropped the subject to relax Emily and switched her focus back to the butterflies.

As she was leaving, Nikita had an idea. She jimmied the door of Owen's mail slot until it opened. She grabbed the mail inside it, stuffed it under her shirt, and hurried out the door. She got lucky. Nikita found a phone bill and called the cell phone company who had sent the bill. She pretended that her husband lost his phone and that she wanted to find it using a GPS tracker. She was able to give Owen's name and account number, but when asked for the password Nikita was stuck.

"Listen." she said to the operator for the cell phone company. "I'm not actually looking for the cell phone. I'm looking for the cheating bastard attached to the cell phone. The password is probably his hooker of the week's name like Bambi or Chloe or Jeni. The man could not keep it in his pants if it was tied to his zipper, you know what I mean?"

Nikita hoped that her angry rant evoked some sympathy from the woman on the other end on the line. It did. Most women would feel sorry for a fellow woman who was being cheated on by a scumbag. Within minutes, Nikita had Owen's location and the operator's deepest wishes that she'd divorce the jerk and get every penny she could out of him.

Squinting, Nikita tried to make out the address on the building in front of her. This was it. Nikita was surprised that Owen had chosen to hide out in a school. Walking inside, the choice made more sense. The school appeared to have closed down. While it once must have been impressive, the floors were dirty and it had fallen into disrepair.

An uneasy silence filled the air as Nikita searched the building. With her gun raised, she entered a science lab and saw Owen standing with his back to her.

"Show me your hands." she said firmly.

He complied. Nikita could see the prominent muscles in his arms as he raised them higher and slowly turned around to face her. His blue eyes watched her warily.

"Good place to hide." she remarked. "A school gone to hell. Remind you of Division any?"

He stepped closer to her as though he was preparing to fight her, but Nikita realized that he was actually placing himself in front of the black box that was sitting on the lab bench.

"So is that what you got from the bank?"

"Percy sent you?" he asked, speaking for the first time.

"Hello, I have the gun. That means question time is for me."

Owen could see that the answer was no. Nikita wasn't going to play that angle.

"Well, I am here because of Percy." she continued. "That's one of his black boxes, isn't it?"

"See for yourself." replied Owen, tossing it at her.

Nikita reached up to catch the box, taking her gun off of Owen who leapt with inhuman strength to kick the gun out of her hand. They fought and he sent Nikita rolling into a cabinet. The stained glass butterflies that she had received from Emily fell out of her pocket and clattered onto the floor.

"Where did you get those?" demanded Owen.

Nikita stood up with her hands out.

"Listen," she began.

Owen ran at her and they tussled again. He had Nikita in a chokehold.

"What did you do to her?" he cried. "What did you do to Emily?"

"Not Division." gasped Nikita.

"Who are you?" he asked, confused.

Nikita took advantage of Owen's momentary distraction to ram her elbow into his groin. She freed herself and grabbed his leg, knocking him to the ground. Nikita ran, leaving Owen on the floor with the black box tucked into the back of his jeans. He grabbed her gun and ran after her. Nikita pushed open the door to the school as she ran past it, and Owen saw it close as he entered the hallway. It seemed as though she had fled. In reality, Nikita was hiding down another hallway with the gun from her ankle holster securely in her hands.

Since Owen assumed that Nikita had left the building, he scooped up his jacket and clambered out the window of the science lab. He ran until he was certain that the woman had not followed him. Then he proceeded to call Percy from his prepaid phone.

"You're early. What went wrong?" asked Percy.

"My position had been compromised. An operative made a play for the package. It's still secure, but you may want to move up your time table."

Percy stood up from the couch he was sitting on as his blood began to boil. There was only one operative who would do such a thing.

"Female. About five foot six, right?" Percy did not need to wait for a confirmation.

"Who is she?" Owen asked, panting slightly from the exertion of the afternoon.

"Nikita." muttered Percy darkly. "A rogue agent."

"How come I wasn't briefed?" said Owen indignantly.

"Briefed?" countered Percy. "Owen, what did she say to you?"

"Nothing. She wanted to know who I was, but I was able to get the drop on her."

"But you let her live." said Percy, disappointed.

"Now, I had a choice to pursue her or protect the package." said Owen with conviction. "And my job is to protect the package."

"You made the right choice. Beat location alpha in one hour, and I'll pick up the box myself. One more thing. If you see Nikita again, you have to terminate on sight."

Percy hung up and turned to Roan, his chief cleaner. Or without the euphemism, his most ruthless killer.

"I'll take care of her." he offered, his silver hair glinting in the lamplight.

"No. For once she's not the priority. I need you and your men to secure the rendezvous point. When the delivery has been made I want complete containment."

"You want me to cancel the courier." said Roan, catching Percy's drift.

"He's had advanced training, so be ready."

From her car, Nikita contacted Alex and asked her to find out anything she could on Owen Elliot. Nikita hoped that her mole would pull through in time. Luckily, Alex had a plan.

….

Birkhoff was attempting to instruct the recruits as to how to crack a cell phone or Bluetooth encryption. While he was preoccupied with dealing with Jaden and Thom's bantering, Alex got Birkhoff to press a button on her device giving her an excellent thumbprint. Alex said that she had to use the restroom and ran out of the computer lab. Back in her room, Alex brushed eye shadow on the Bluetooth and then lifted the print with tape from the Bluetooth. She stuck the tape on the plastic casing from her lamp which fit nicely on her thumb. Now she had a copy of Birkhoff's thumbprint which would give her access to Percy's office.

When she returned to the lab, the class was still in session. She saw Chad leaning over Arya who was struggling with breaking the safety code on the phone.

"Here." he said, pressing a few buttons. "You do it like this."

"Thanks." she said.

"Now you try it." Chad said encouragingly.

To Arya's astonishment, she cracked the code on her first go at it. Chad had been surprisingly helpful. From across the room, Roger felt a stab of jealousy as he watched Chad being so close to Arya.

"Take it easy, man." said Thom. "Let it go."

Roger had not been aware that his fists were clenched.

"Arya's smart. She won't fall for his act." reassured Thom.

"She better not. Or she'll end up cancelled."

Feeling his eyes on her, Arya looked over at Roger. She smiled tentatively. She felt awkward around him after rejecting him before his mission. She would have to deal with her feelings for him. They could never be romantically involved. That was clear. Arya had a mission to accomplish, and she could not afford any distractions. That had always been her rule no matter how tempting those distractions might be. She and Roger could be friends, Arya decided. Just friends and nothing more.

Alex took her seat next to Arya and tried to focus on her work instead of on Thom who kept trying to get her attention. Glancing around the room, Alex noticed that Michael was standing in the doorway with a faraway look in his eyes. She had never seen his face so unguarded. It made him look younger and full of possibilities as though anything might happen. As though his touch when he had held her after he saved her from the "terrorist" could turn into something more. Alex shook herself out of her daydream. There were more important things at stake. She had to sneak over to Percy's office and find out something about Owen Elliot. Nikita was counting on her.

Author's Note: I'm putting our love triangles to a vote. It's all up to you guys. Should Alex be with Thom or Michael, and should Arya end up with Roger or Chad? I'd also be happy to hear about any other couples that you might have in mind.

You know the drill: read and review!


	12. Chapter 11

Michael beckoned to Roger from the top of the stairs. Alex felt foolish for imagining that Michael had come for her when he had clearly come for Roger. With one last lingering glance in Arya's direction, Roger headed up the steps. Arya gave him a little wave and was secretly relieved that he had left. It was clear that he still had strong feelings for her. She could see it on his face even if he didn't say anything. It scared her to be the object of such raw emotion.

Arya had chosen to befriend Roger as a sort of training exercise for herself in order to get more comfortable with men, but there was no denying that there was something appealing about his powerful physique, lilting voice, and genuine personality. However, he was just coming on to her way too strongly. Arya turned her attention back to Alex who was radiating nervous energy. It was probably about Thom. Alex and Arya both appeared to be having boy troubles. So did Jaden, apparently, since she was being ignored by both Thom and Chad.

It seemed as though the class with Birkhoff would never end. Alex tapped her feet anxiously until Birkhoff finally dismissed the recruits. Thom went up to Alex and tried to talk to her, but she brushed him off as kindly as she could and snuck away from the rest of the recruits.

…

"I'm sorry to do this to you again, but Amanda wants to see you." Michael told Roger. "Good luck."

"I'll need it." Roger grinned. "She just might eat me alive."

"Don't worry. I'll make sure you come back in one piece."

Michael left Roger to face Amanda who was probably still angry at him. He was reaching for the door handle when Amanda called, "Come in Roger. I've been waiting for you."

With some trepidation Roger entered the room and stood before Amanda. She was seated on her couch with her legs crossed.

"You're not in trouble, Roger. Percy wanted to tell you this himself, but since he is not here he left the job to me. You were excellent in New Orleans, and in light of your performance Percy and I have decided that you are ready to be made an agent."

"Wow." said Roger, surprised. "Thank you."

"Before you leave Division and assume your cover, there is a small procedure that has to be done first. It is standard Division protocol to place a tracker chip in active agents, so you should head down to medical and get your chip implanted."

"Sure, I'll go right now."

Roger was assaulted by a mix of feelings. On the one hand, he felt a burst of euphoria when Amanda first told him the news. He had succeeded; he was worthy of becoming an agent. But he also felt a surge of doubt and apprehension. What exactly would he have to do in his role an agent? Where would that lead him? What would he become?

….

Alex tiptoed down the stone corridor to Percy's office wiping her sweaty hands on her grey sweatpants. Her stomach filled with butterflies as she pressed Birkhoff's thumbprint to the fingerprint scanner outside of the office door. She was in. Quickly, Alex rifled through Percy's desk searching for something, anything. When the door beeped, Alex frantically searched for a place to hide. She scampered under the long conference table making sure she was crouched behind one of the big blue chairs.

Michael and Birkhoff entered cautiously. After a bit of persuasion, Michael convinced Birkhoff to look for Owen Elliot on Percy's private computer. They found Owen's file. Owen's cover was listed as a landscaper. He was trained as a cleaner, but his assignment simply said "guardian". Things grew stranger. Owen was issued some hardware that Birkhoff had never heard of. Alex heard Michael mention the serial number "BB4905." She repeated the letters and numbers in her head. At least now she would have something to tell Nikita. Michael had a flash of inspiration and seemed to understand what was going on. He left abruptly followed by a confused Birkhoff who was begging Michael to tell him what he knew. Alex let out a sigh of relief. She had made it.

…

Nikita was calmly waiting in an armchair when Emily burst into her apartment. Emily was too preoccupied with her own churning emotions to notice Nikita.

"Owen called you, didn't he?" said Nikita. She wasn't really asking; she knew it.

"What are you doing here?" asked Emily, her eyes red from crying.

"He told you to leave work early, right? That he'd talk to you when he saw you. They're going to kill him Emily!"

She flinched at the force of Nikita's words.

"Who, the police?" Emily whispered.

"No. The people he works for. The same people I used to work for."

"Owen is a landscaper." replied Emily tentatively.

"You still believe that?" scoffed Nikita.

Her voice was harsh but her eyes were gentle. She met Emily's tearful gaze and the distraught woman could tell that Nikita was being truthful. Emily swallowed hard.

"He told me not to believe the news. He's not the man they're describing. He's shy. He didn't even talk to me the first time I saw him." She smiled at the memory but her face grew solemn. "Why would anyone want to kill him?"

"Because he made a mistake. Several actually, starting with you."

"What?" gasped Emily, cut to the core by Nikita's words.

Nikita looked away guiltily, but she said the words that she did in order to save Owen and Emily. To give them the future that was taken from her when Division killed Daniel.

"Most people want to make a connection." began Nikita. "They want to feel safe; they want to feel loved. In Owen's line of work, those feelings get you killed. They are what got my fiancé killed. I just don't want to see it happen again."

"Are you criminals?" Emily asked in a quivering voice.

"It's a little more complicated than that. He lied to protect you, but he can't do it anymore."

"Why should I believe you?" Emily challenged, her beautiful face raised stubbornly in denial.

"Because I've been through it." replied Nikita simply. "I am the only one who can save Owen."

…

Roan and Percy stood on the deck of a yacht, waiting for Owen to appear on the dock. Their men were in position, and Percy was confident that he would get his black box back without a hitch. It was a shame that Owen would have to be cancelled. His only mistake was trying to play the hero and save civilians. If Owen had just gone along with the bank robbery, none of this would have to happen. But it was too late. This was a sign that Owen was getting soft, and Percy could not risk losing his black box for any reason.

There he was; box in hand. Owen made his way down the dock but stopped when his phone rang. It was Emily.

"Emily? I told you that I would come by as soon as I could."

"We need to talk." said Nikita on the other end of the phone.

"Where's Emily?" demanded Owen, dreading the answer.

"She's safe." was the infuriating reply.

"Where _is_ she?"

"At her place. She's fine for now, but she won't be if you give Percy that box."

"I'm going to kill you." Owen promised with a growl.

Much to Percy's chagrin, Owen turned around and rushed off. Unbeknownst to Percy, he was going to save Emily, which was exactly the reaction that Nikita wanted from him. This way Owen would be safe from Percy's hit-men.

Percy swore. Nikita must have called Owen and tipped him off as to Percy's plan. She must have given him some convincing proof that the trap was in place for Owen to have believed her. On his orders, Percy's men rushed to cut Owen off before he could exit the dock but they were too late and he was out of their firing range.

With his gun drawn and his heart racing, Owen ran into Emily's apartment determined to save her from Nikita.

….

Amanda went down to medical and watched through the window as Roger was anesthetized. Once he was unconscious, Amanda rapped on the window and the doctor came out wearing his face mask and surgical gloves.

"Why did you call me out here?" he asked. "I don't want to get contaminated and have to scrub in again."

"I wanted to remind you to make sure you also implant the kill chip along with the tracker." she instructed.

It was more of a warning than a reminder. The doctor was already aware of the procedure.

"Of course." answered the doctor. "Everything will be as you requested."

"I'll be watching the surgery from my office." added Amanda just in case the doctor had second thoughts or felt bad about inserting the kill chip. "And do not tell him about it."

The doctor nodded. There was nothing he could do: he had no choice.

….

Nikita was expecting Owen and had her gun drawn before he even walked through the doorway. The faced each other with their weapons raised.

"She's safe, Owen." Nikita said quickly, before Owen could do anything stupid.

"Where is she?" he asked flatly.

Emily emerged and began to head toward Owen. Nikita stopped her and held out an arm.

"Wait." said Nikita firmly.

"What do you want?" asked Owen, exasperated.

"I want the black box. And I want to help you escape from Division with Emily."

"Why?" asked Owen. He did not trust her.

"Why did you save that little girl at the bank?" countered Nikita. "You could have waited out the crisis like you're trained to do, but no. You saved that girl's life and acted differently. You ignored your training because it was the right thing to do. That's why I'm going to help you and Emily. Because it's the right thing to do. Thanks to Emily, you know how that feels."

"Hey! Leave Emily out of this."

"She's already in this, Owen!" Nikita practically shouted. "We all are! Do you even know what that black box is? That hard drive contains evidence of every job Division has ever done. It has all of the nation's dirty laundry and more. As long as Percy has the boxes, he's untouchable. That's been his leverage against the people who put him in power. That is why I need to destroy it; because it is the right thing to do."

Emily's gaze darted back and forth between Owen and Nikita as she nervously watched their exchange. With Nikita's permission, Emily ran to Owen and hugged him tightly. Owen hugged her back while still keeping his gun on Nikita.

"Is she telling the truth?" asked Emily, feeling everything she knew coming crumbling down around her. "Is it true?"

"I don't know." admitted Owen.

"Because Percy doesn't want you to know." interrupted Nikita.

Owen glanced at Emily's face. She seemed shaken, but her kind eyes were filled with love for him and trust in whatever choice he made.

"There's only one way to be sure." continued Nikita. "Where's the black box?"

As a gesture of good will, Nikita lowered her gun. With an pleading look from Emily, Owen lowered his weapon as well.

"I buried it." said Owen finally.

"You buried it?" said Nikita, aggravated. "In the ground? Where?"

"You first." replied Owen. "How did you escape Division? How did you remove your tracker?"

"I will tell you," said Nikita with sincerity, "but not now. We don't have enough t-"

The tinkle of breaking glass cut her off. Owen and Nikita spun around in time to see a bullet lodge itself in Emily's abdomen. She let out a sharp gasp of surprise. That was all she could manage before she collapsed on the ground, the life force draining out of her.

"No!" Owen shouted, running to the love of his life. She was the reason he changed. Everything Owen did had been for her. As the snipers kept shooting, Owen paid them no mind. Emily lay broken on the floor, and Owen felt his heart shatter like her glass butterflies that were being destroyed by the hail of gunfire. She couldn't die on him now. Not when they actually had a chance of escaping together.

"Come on Owen." called Nikita. "We have to go."

With a great effort, Owen wrenched himself away from Emily's lifeless body but proceeded to return the sniper fire instead of fleeing the apartment. Three men broke down the apartment door, and Owen threw himself at them turning his grief into rage. He tore the men apart without thought for his own safety. All that mattered was that someone would suffer the way he was suffering. Owen went down as more and more men poured into the room while Nikita jumped down the stairs of the fire escape, running for her life.

…...

Roger woke up with a parched, sore throat and an even worse pain in his head. He did not feel at all like a Division agent. He just wanted to go back to sleep. The doctor told him that his symptoms were normal and that they would wear off in a few days. He headed to the training area and found Arya on the treadmill. She was focused on a distant spot on the wall, trying to keep her breathing even. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Roger standing next to her. He looked desperate and lost and she felt bad for him. He was still her friend even if things were uncomfortable between them.

"Hey." she panted.

"Hi." he responded. "Listen, I have something to tell you. I just got back from Medical. The doctor was implanting my tracker."

"Does this mean that you're an agent now?" she asked.

"Yeah." said Roger. "So I'm going to be leaving Division. They haven't told me where I'll go, but I'm going to have a house and a cover in the real world now."

"How do you feel about it?" Arya gasped, continuing to run.

I'm not sure. I don't know what to think. On the one hand, it will be good to get out of here, but at the same time, it will be weird to be a part of the rest of the world after being isolated in here for the past year. And to top that off, there's all the things they're going to make me do."

"You mean all the people you'll have to kill for Division."

"Yeah." said Roger bitterly. "I'll just add them to the list. To become an agent, I had to kill an old friend. That's where I was; what I was doing. I never told you because it was like it happened to someone else. It wasn't me. At least, it wasn't the real me doing those things. I'm not a killer, Arya."

"You just have to kill people sometimes. I get it. There's a difference. That difference is what keeps us sane."

Breathing hard, Arya stopped the treadmill and wiped off her face. She held up a finger to Roger.

"Give me two minutes."

She ran off to shower while Roger muddled through his jumbled thoughts. When she returned, they walked to a quiet hallway and Arya sat down cross legged on the floor.

"You don't really have choice. You have to do what Division wants, but you also have to stay a good person inside. Don't let them corrupt you, Roger. Lock away a part of yourself inside, and don't let Division take that from you. That's how you survive until you can escape Division."

"How did you get to be so wise?"

"From experience, my young grasshopper." she teased, trying to lighten the moment.

He smiled back.

"I guess a sense of humor is also important."

He took her hand and sensed that she was about to pull away. He leaned in close.

"I need to leave soon, and I might not ever see you again. Just know that I won't forget you. And Arya, I . . . I think I might be in love with you."

He quickly pressed his lips to hers and kissed her deeply. Roger scrambled to his feet, ashamed for not asking her permission, and practically ran down the hall. He risked a backward glance and Arya smiled a sad, sweet smile because she knew that Roger couldn't handle rejection just then.

"Bye, Roger." she said quietly.

….

Nikita's computer beeped from the passenger's seat of her car. Her protégé had pulled through for her. From the information Alex had discovered, Owen Elliot was assigned to be a guardian, and he was protecting a piece of hardware with the serial number BB4905.

Owen should have listened to her. If he had just listened to her, he wouldn't be in Percy's clutches. It was too late to change the past, but Nikita had to save Owen's future which was headed towards death at Percy's hand. For the sake of Emily's memory and to retrieve the black box, Nikita had to rescue Owen.

The black box's serial number could come in handy. A thought struck her. Nikita had always been told that she would make a great poker player: she knew how to bluff. It was risky, but it was her only option. Nikita was going to rattle Percy into disclosing his location so that she could save Owen.

….

Looking calmly at Percy through the haze of pain that threatened to overtake him, Owen knew how he would get his revenge. He would take the location of the black box to his grave. There was nothing Percy could do to make him talk. Emily was the only thing that had ever mattered to Owen, and Percy snatched her from him. Owen's love for Emily would allow him to withstand the torture and keep the black box hidden. He would do it for her.

Roan swung his fist into Owen's nose, shattering it. Percy stepped back to avoid the spatter of blood. He had never liked to get his hands dirty. Roan and others were always there to do his dirty work. Percy circled Owen like a vulture, hissing into his ear. He was getting desperate, and desperate men become impulsive. Sooner or later, Percy would lose it and kill Owen in his fury. Owen was counting on it.

….

Once again, Nikita's plan hinged on Alex. The credit really went to Birkhoff, though, for his timely lesson on how to hack into a Bluetooth. As Birkhoff was crossing through the recruit training area, Alex ran to cut him off. She complimented him on the day's lesson while slipping his Bluetooth out of his pocket. Bingo. Alex pulled her hair out of her ponytail and clipped the Bluetooth to her ear, hiding it under her abundant brown waves.

"You've got a call, Michael." Birkhoff informed him. "It's Nikita."

A hush fell over the room as Michael picked up the phone.

"Hey, Michael." purred Nikita. Miss me?"

"Trace the call." hissed Michael to Birkhoff who had already begun to use cell towers to triangulate Nikita's location. The process would take some time, so Michael would have to figure out what Nikita wanted and then stall her until the trace was complete.

"Yeah," said Michael, "things have been boring without you. I don't suppose you're calling to ask to rejoin Division? We'd love to have you back."

"Don't flatter yourself." said Nikita. "The only way you'll ever get me back is in a body bag, which I'm sure Percy would love to arrange. Speaking of your boss, where is he? I'd like to talk to him."

"Do it." mouthed Birkhoff. "I need more time. She's definitely in North America, but I don't know where."

"Percy isn't here right now." answered Michael. "Let me call him for you."

Michael dialed Percy's number from a Division phone after shooting him a text that Nikita was calling. From outside the room, Alex smiled as she eavesdropped on the conversation. It was working.

"Hello Nikita." said Percy. "To what do I owe the honor? I was actually just talking about you with your boyfriend here."

"Owen? How is he?"

"He's been better. So, what do you want?"

"What do I want? Let's see. Well, I want to empty my gun into your face. How's that for a start?"

"We both know that you wouldn't do that. If I die, the contents of all of the black boxes get released for the whole world to see. You wouldn't want that kind of chaos. Why don't you ask for something more reasonable?"

"I want Owen."

"Why would I give him to you? After all, he has caused me a great deal of trouble."

"You give me Owen, I give you your black box. Fair?"

"You've got balls, Nikita. I'll give you that. But we both know that you don't really have the box."

"Black box serial number BB4905? I think I've got it."

"You weren't stupid enough to give her the box, were you?" said Percy to Owen.

"What?" asked Owen innocently, playing along. "Was that a bad thing?"

"You think I don't have copies?" Percy scoffed to Nikita. "That box means nothing to me."

"In that case," said Nikita, "I think I'll take a look inside and see what we have. Maybe there's even a dirty secret about you in there, Percy."

"I've got it." whispered Birkhoff. "She's three and a half miles from Percy's position."

"Where's that?" asked Michael. "An old freighter down by the docks."

"Yes!" Alex laughed with glee. Nikita's plan had worked. Alex was certain that Nikita would successfully save Owen. Then they would have one box and only five more to go before they could take down Percy.

"Meet me at the Olympic football stadium at 0700 hours tomorrow morning." Nikita told Percy. "Bring Owen. No one else."

She hung up just as Alex sent her Percy's location. Nikita drove off for the docks.

Michael was still on the line.

"Sir," he said to Percy. "Nikita isn't far from here. Should I send local law enforcement officers after her?"

"There's no point. I'll send my own men, but she'll be long gone by then. We'll just have to be ready for her tomorrow."

….

Roan cocked his head as he heard a noise from above deck.

"Everyone check in." he radioed to the guards.

One was silent.

"Don't bother checking it out." said Percy. "I know it's Nikita; I can feel it."

"Let's get you out of here." Roan told Percy. "I'll take care of Owen."

Percy ran up the steps to the deck while Roan picked up his gun and put it to Owen's temple. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Owen stood up while still tied to his chair and spun around, knocking Roan off his feet. The chair collapsed and Roan stood up to defend himself. Although Owen was weakened from the beating he had received, he was no ordinary man: he was a guardian. He was chosen for his superhuman strength and skill which was supplemented by a combination of steroids and amphetamines just like the rest of the guardians. Owen ran up the steps with Roan behind him and sent the other man flying over the railing where he crashed to the floor of the freighter.

Owen grabbed Roan's gun and raced to the deck where he ran into Nikita. They spotted Percy attempting to flee and Owen held up his gun.

"You can't shoot me, Owen." cautioned Percy. "Think of the damage that you'll do to your country."

"The problem is," said Owen flatly, "that I just don't care."

Nikita knocked away Owen's gun. She wanted Percy dead as much as Owen did, but she also couldn't do any more damage to her country than she had already done. As Owen fought against Nikita, Percy managed to get the gun. Owen and Nikita ran to the rail of the ship and jumped overboard while Percy filled the air with gunfire. Nikita and Owen swam to safety, but when they hit the shore it became clear that Owen was shot in the side. Nikita hotwired a car and took Owen to the safety of her apartment.

Her next task would be to convince him to give her the black box. After depriving Owen of his chance to get revenge on Percy for Emily's death, Owen was not likely to be forthcoming. Nikita sighed. This was going to be a challenge.

Author's Note: Please review or I might have to sic Nikita on you ; )


	13. Chapter 12

Nikita thought that she was in complete control of herself, that nothing could shake her. But this was too much. Nikita cried for the first time in a long time, the wound in heart from Daniel's death reopened. She thought she had healed and put it behind her. Daniel's murder was another sin she could attribute to the evil that was Division, that was Percy. Now Nikita had someone much more concrete and close to blame. Owen. He had murdered Daniel in cold blood.

No, it was not entirely his fault. As much as Nikita wanted and needed to lash out at someone, she would get nowhere by hurting Owen. He expected her to shoot him after his confession to Daniel's murder. He had even wanted it. Owen was trying to atone for his crimes and to escape the pain of Emily's death by allowing Nikita to kill him. But Nikita was not a murderer. She had begun her vendetta against Division in her own effort at redemption. Though she served a different function than Owen, Nikita had still done terrible things.

It was important to keep in mind what she was fighting for. Nikita stood for justice and morality and forgiveness. She was on a quest primarily to be able to forgive herself, to be able to look at her own reflection in the mirror and to feel that she deserved to love herself. Also, Nikita had to make up for the damage she caused the world. She had a debt to repay, and she intended to pay it.

….

Amanda marched into the communications room and stopped behind Birkhoff who jumped once he noticed that Amanda was there.

"I didn't do it." he said nervously.

"What didn't you do Birkhoff?" questioned Amanda, her curiosity piqued.

"Nothing. That's the point."

Amanda raised an eyebrow. She would find out what was going on later.

"I'm here because I need you to look into a past mission. Pull up all security cameras in the French Quarter of New Orleans from two nights ago."

"Still interrogating Roger? Don't you think he would have told you everything by now?"

Amanda gave Birkhoff a dirty look that shut him up and sent his fingers scurrying faster over the keyboard.

"Every minute of security camera footage from that night has been sent to your email."

"Thank you, Seymour."

Birkhoff rolled his eyes at the deliberate jab. He hated his first name and Amanda knew it.

Amanda fast-forwarded through the footage and stopped when she found what she was looking for. After Roger had confirmed the kill, he threw up on a street corner. A woman was came on the screen and she walked off with Roger. This was what Roger had been omitting. The question was who was Roger's mystery woman?

The phone rang interrupting Amanda's musings. She had a meeting with Percy in fifteen minutes, and she could tell that it was important. Amanda decided to leave Roger's mystery woman for the moment. She had one more thing to do before she went to see Percy.

…

Arya had practically moved into Amanda's office. She was singled out for chats nearly every day so that Amanda could analyze her like a specimen in a laboratory. As grueling as the sessions were, they did help Arya make progress. Although Amanda's intentions for aiding Arya were unclear, she was an expert psychoanalyst and dedicated herself to the task of puzzling through Arya's unique but damaged mind.

In order to deal with the trauma she faced while with Carlos, Arya had to compartmentalize her emotions and disassociate herself from her situation. She learned to submit to Carlos during the nights, and she played along with his charade that they were a happy couple during the day in an effort to avoid his punishment. Carlos realized this and acted accordingly. He took what he wanted from her during his nightly frenzy of lust, but he showed the part of himself that genuinely cared about her throughout the day. Carlos understood what was going on in Arya's head and made it easy for her to separate her feelings and actions depending on whether it was day or night. Amanda figured that another year or so with Carlos would have driven Arya to multi-personality disorder.

The ability to detach her mind from her surroundings and to see her life almost as though she was an outsider looking in would serve Arya well when she had to kill for Division. It would allow her to live with herself and with what she would have to do. However, in terms of Carlos, Arya had to deal with him in order to move on.

Amanda thrust her way into Arya's memories and extracted what she could. In making Arya talk about her experiences, they became less painful. Once the overwhelming emotions were condensed into words, Arya was not forced to bear their weight alone. She shared a small sliver of her past with Amanda during every one of their talks.

Another contribution to Arya's mental fragility was that she felt isolated, that no one could possibly understand her or what she went through. Amanda suspected that was why she became close to Alex. Neither of the two girls was especially talkative, but Amanda figured that the presence of someone who had survived a similar experience would be comforting for both girls. Even so, nobody could ever truly comprehend what Arya's life was like.

In order to use Arya most effectively, Amanda needed to know how her mind operated. Arya's looks made her perfect for valentine ops, or seducing a target to get to them, but there was no way Arya could handle anything of the sort until she was comfortable with her own sexuality.

After some introspection, Arya realized that if she chose on her own to be sexy, like when she pretended to be a model for Max, then it was fun. Exuding that kind of persona was just like putting on a costume. But when she was dressed up by Carlos or by Amanda, then it was simply another form of degradation. Amanda was beginning to recognize this as well.

To stop Amanda from delving further into Arya's past which was all fabricated, Arya let Amanda focus on her time with Carlos and pretended that he was the source of all of her psychological problems. Arya was proud of herself for hiding her history as an assassin for the government from Amanda who had a razor sharp intuition for discovering secrets.

Back when she worked for the CIA director Henry Wilcox, Arya had actually wanted to be someone like Amanda eventually. There was a reason why there were no old field agents: people in that profession did not live long. Even the best were at risk, so Arya had also planned for a future that was more conducive to growing old. At the time, Arya did not realize how much was missing from her life, and to be someone like Amanda was the best she could have hoped for. Things were different now. They could turn out better.

"You have been a superb recruit since you joined Division." Amanda praised. "From the beginning, we knew that the biggest obstacle on your path to become an agent was yourself. I want you to succeed, Arya, and that is why I have been pushing you so hard mentally. According to your instructors, you are ready to become a fully-fledged agent. I am the last person who has to approve your change in status. And I think you're finally ready. Congratulations, Arya. You deserve it."

"Thank you." said Arya softly.

Amanda left for her meeting with Percy leaving Arya sitting on the couch. She was one step closer to bringing down Division and it felt good to be doing the right thing.

….

Nikita was enjoying the flow of cool water on her skin as she swam laps in the pool. She heard the door to the pool room open. Owen stood at the edge of the water watching Nikita's rhythmic, hypnotic motions as her arms and legs sliced through the water. He held the black box in his hand. Nikita swam to the edge of the pool and climbed out. Owen wordlessly handed her the box. That was easier than Nikita had anticipated.

"Why the change of heart?" she asked.

Owen had been so set on unleashing the contents of the box to the world. He thought that was the way to right the wrongs that Division had done.

"The world isn't ready for that kind of justice. But we can make things right. For Emily and for Daniel."

"Thank you, Owen." whispered Nikita.

Nikita dropped the box onto the wet floor where it sputtered slightly from coming in contact with the chlorinated water. They watched with silent satisfaction as she put a bullet in the center of their first black box, destroying it forever.

They were both suddenly aware of Nikita's revealing bathing suit, and she wrapped a towel around herself while Owen averted his eyes. He cleared his throat.

"I have some leads on another black box. I know that it's somewhere in London, but I'm going to need some time to narrow down a location. I'll call when I have something."

"Be careful, Owen. Take care of yourself."

He gave her a brief nod of acknowledgement and left abruptly. If anyone could find a little black box in all of London, it would be Owen. He would find the box out of sheer determination. She just hoped that he wouldn't sacrifice himself in the process.

Author's Note: I'm sorry for the long wait, but I've been away from home all summer. I hope you all like the chapter, and I look forward to reading your reviews.


	14. Chapter 13

Amanda entered Percy's office and the briefing began. It was just the two of them meaning that whatever Percy had to say was important.

"Crimson Moon has become a priority for Division. They're a recently founded terrorist group that is based in Saudi Arabia, but their members are from all over the Middle East. We know who the major players are, but we don't know much about their recruits. The CIA has barely heard any chatter from them since Crimson Moon is very careful to stay off the grid. That's good for us because the CIA won't be getting in our way this time. But I have sources that say something big is going down. We need to find out more about Crimson Moon and what they're planning."

"So that we can stop them or so that we can use them for ourselves?" asked Amanda dryly.

"What a novel idea." replied Percy, as though he hadn't thought of that himself from the beginning. "Let's infiltrate Crimson Moon, find out what they're up to, and use them for Division. Maybe they can take out some of our enemies for us."

"Our choices of agents are limited. We don't have very many men who look the part and who are proficient enough in Arabic."

"Who said we were going to use a man?"

"You can't be serious. These men would never respect a woman enough to tell her their plans."

"Exactly. They wouldn't even notice that she was there. Or if they did, it wouldn't matter because she would only be a woman and couldn't do anything anyway."

"Who did you have in mind?" questioned Amanda.

"Arya. She is dark enough to pass for a Middle Easterner, she speaks fluent Arabic, and she's played that sort of role before."

"Being placed in a relationship where she would have to be the submissive partner would force her to relive all of the abuse she went through with Carlos. Psychologically it could destroy her. Are you really willing to put her though that so soon after she started making progress?"

"If she can't handle it, then she isn't an asset to us anyway." said Percy tersely.

Percy explained the details of the operation. It was complicated but effective. The first target was Ahmed Soleymani, the moneyman behind the group. A Division strike team would grab Soleymani from his home in Saudi Arabia. Amanda would be there with the necessary equipment. Using powerful drugs, she would blur his long term memory from the past five years and manipulate his mind so that he believed what Amanda wanted him to believe. The best part was that Ahmed's own brain would fill in any gaps in memory that Amanda left.

Ahmed would believe that Arya had been his wife for the past five years and that they had two children together after a struggle to conceive. They would travel together to London where the Crimson Moon meeting was to take place. Ahmed's bodyguards would all be replaced by bodyguards from a security company whose head was loyal to Division. This way, no one would know that that Arya and Ahmed were not really married. The change in staff would also be prompted by Amanda who would play on Ahmed's paranoia. She would have someone from a cyber-unit steal from one of Ahmed's accounts shortly before she grabbed him. Amanda would then convince Ahmed that it was an inside job and that he needed to replace his bodyguards to get rid of the thief since he did not know who stole the money.

Messing with Ahmed's mind would give Percy and Amanda the chance to test their latest mental manipulation methods. If the plan was successful, Ahmed would be a Division spy. And the best part was, Ahmed would have no idea that he was a Division asset.

Amanda had her doubts about the mission, but Percy was her superior and she had no authority to stop him. Yet.

….

A woman covered in a black niqab and abaya drifted through the crowd at the airport as dark and silent as a shadow. She followed a man who was probably her husband, and carried two babies in a baby carrier on her arm. A second man accompanied them, holding their suitcases. He was a porter or a hired hand of some sort. Gabriel watched from his seat at the gate as the family sat down a few seats away from him. The woman adjusted her niqab, the veil that only showed her grey-green eyes, while her husband greedily wolfed down a sandwich.

Gabriel supposed that there was no way for the woman to eat in public without lifting the veil that covered her face. Even the heavy fabric that she wore could not disguise her slender figure as she was called to the front desk. Assuming that the name that was called over the loudspeaker was hers, her first name was Nadia but he did not catch her surname. Her hips swayed gracefully as she waded through the sea of people.

Her husband accompanied her. Whatever news they were told was not good because the man began shouting angrily at the airline official and gesturing wildly with his hands. Arya reached out an arm and laid it gently on her husband's shoulder, imploring him to not make a scene. He knocked her hand away violently and she cringed. Gabriel watched as she subconsciously repositioned the babies so that her body was shielding them from her husband.

Moments after, Gabriel's name was also called. The flight was overbooked, so he had to catch to next flight from Saudi Arabia to London. Apparently, the woman also had to give up her seat. The husband was clearly not happy about it, but there was nothing he could do. He glowered in his seat until the passengers began to board to plane. The woman relaxed visibly once her husband was gone.

Several hours later, the next flight was scheduled to take off. Struggling with the babies, the diaper bag, and her suitcase, Arya arrived at her row and saw a man sitting in the aisle. Arya had the window seat. He was slim with dark hair and bright green eyes. The man stood up courteously.

"Why don't you take my seat?" he offered in Arabic. "That way you can have more room for the babies."

"Thank you." she replied demurely, settling into her chair.

She placed the baby carrier in the empty middle seat. Gabriel did not mind. He figured that she would be more comfortable with some space in between them. The babies were a boy and a girl both with olive toned skin, green eyes, and wisps of dark hair. Gabriel smiled at them, eliciting a toothless smile in return from the boy, which displayed the dimples in his plump cheeks.

"He likes you." said Arya, smiling under her veil. "His name is Jibril." (The Arabic equivalent of Gabriel)

"Oh, really? My name is Jibril, too. What is your daughter's name?"

"She's Jalilla."

Jibril began to cry, so Arya pulled out a bottle from her immense diaper bag. His crying made Jalilla start to cry as well.

"Do you want me to hold him?" asked Gabriel.

She hesitated. He was a stranger, after all, and she was not supposed to talk to strangers let alone let them hold her children. Then again, her husband wasn't there to rebuke her. The other passengers shot her dirty looks, and Arya did not want to draw too much attention to herself.

"That would be very kind of you, thank you." said Arya finally.

She handed Jibril to Gabriel and picked up Jalilla. Within seconds, both babies were quiet.

"Wow." said Arya. "He must really like you. Jibril is usually my fussy one."

Gabriel had not held a baby since his son Dani had died. Seven years ago, Dani and Leah - Gabriel's wife - had been killed by a car bomb meant for Gabriel. He had gotten his revenge on the terrorists who had tried to kill him, but his heart had not healed. Jibril fell asleep on Gabriel's chest, his small body snuggled into the soft fabric of Gabriel's shirt.

Arya smiled at the sight and continued to feed Jalilla until she too was sleeping soundly. When the babies were first brought in in preparation for the operation, Arya was completely clueless as to what to do with them. She had no idea how to change a diaper or even how to hold a child properly. Luckily, she had learned fast and Arya had grown attached to Jibril and Jalilla. They had come from an orphanage and were selected specifically because of their resemblance to Arya.

These babies seemed to fill the whole that was left inside of her after she miscarried Carlos's baby many months earlier. They were utterly helpless on their own and depended on her for everything. It was nice to feel needed.

They sat in a comfortable silence for several hours until suddenly, the plane lurched violently. Everything seemed to shake with the turbulence as the plane plummeted through the air. Here was her chance to solidify her cover for Gabriel. Arya clutched Jallila with one hand and gripped the armrest with the other. If her knuckles were visible, Gabriel was sure that they would have been white.

She muttered a prayer under her breath, the words almost inaudible. Gabriel could barely make out her chant.

"Ash-hadoo a'ana lei elleha ella Allah, wash-hadoo a'nna Mohammedan rasulu La." (I affirm that there is no God but Allah and that Mohammed is His prophet."

People reveal their true selves when faced with danger or possible life and death situations. Some cry out to their deity while others cry for their mothers, yet Gabriel was silent. The Israeli Mossad agent knew that there was no one to turn to.

He tried his hardest to do what needed to be done, to do what was necessary to protect his homeland, while taking pleasure from life's comforts along the way. However, when his time came, Gabriel would walk patiently through the doors of heaven and into the arms of the loved ones who awaited him. Gabriel's acceptance that death was a natural part of life made him the successful agent that he was. He tried his hardest to successfully fulfill each mission as it came, but Gabriel had no fears except the fear of failing his country. The innocents of his homeland were the ones he lived for and the ones he lived to protect, since his own family was gone.

Each mission became the most important thing in the world to Gabriel until its completion, and this one was no exception. Gabriel was going to infiltrate and then destroy Crimson Moon.

…

The turbulence ended and the rest of the journey to London was smooth. Arya and Gabriel disembarked from the plane and walked through the terminal at Heathrow Airport, Gabriel chivalrously carrying the bags and Arya carrying the children. Her husband was waiting with the bodyguard. Ahmed frowned with displeasure when he saw Gabriel and his wife walking together. His irritation turned to fury when he realized that the man was carrying Nadia's bags.

Gabriel started when he saw Nadia's husband. He had been sent in blind to London without being briefed on the operation except to be told that he had to take out the terrorist organization Crimson Moon. The director of Mossad, the Israeli intelligence agency, had literally told Gabriel to pack his bags and handed him the file with his instructions. Contrary to Mossad's usual diligence, this operation was pieced together completely last minute because they had just found out the intel on Crimson Moon and that its meeting was in less than two days. Gabriel did not even have a chance to look at the contents of the file until he was on the plane. Ahmed Soleymani, the moneyman of the organization, was standing right in front of him.

"What is this?" Ahmed hissed in Arabic.

"I'm sorry." Arya said timidly. "There was just so much to carry and Jibril was helping me out."

Gabriel stuck out his hand for Ahmed to shake it, but Ahmed merely looked at Gabriel contemptuously.

"Nice to meet you." Gabriel said in English, handing over the suitcases to the bodyguard. As Gabriel passed over the bag, his hand brushed against Ahmed and he casually dropped a bug in Ahmed's pocket.

The bug was tiny and hidden inside a button. Even if Ahmed found the button, he would not be able to recognize what it truly was unless he knew what to look for.

When Gabriel left and was out of earshot, Ahmed berated his wife harshly in Arabic.

"What do you think you are doing socializing with that man? It is completely inappropriate. Who knows what could have happened between the two of you while I was not there to watch you? Get in the car, you filthy whore." he spat.

They flagged down a limousine and loaded their bags in the trunk. Ahmed and Omar the bodyguard had been waiting at the airport for Arya to arrive. They were all tired and headed to the house which was located in a suburb of London.

Omar took care of the luggage while Arya hurried inside to put the babies to bed. Once she was sure that they were sleeping, Arya went to the master bedroom to take a shower. Ahmed was waiting for her when she finished. He was still wearing the same suit that he traveled in.

Upon seeing the look on her husband's face, Arya clutched the towel around herself. Ahmed pulled it away, staring at his wife with a newfound passion.

"Come here." he ordered, his voice husky with desire.

"Please," she began, "I'm so exhausted from the trip. Can it wait?"

"Now are you going to shirk your wifely duties in addition to embarrassing me with your lewd behavior in public?" Ahmed demanded.

Gabriel winced as he listened to the conversation. He now regretted that the bug was transmitting loud and clear, but he had to listen in case he came across any valuable intel. He would never forgive himself for missing something important.

Nauseated, Gabriel threw down the earpiece after an hour. He could not take any more. His resolve to kill Ahmed, though never shaky to begin with, had been strongly reinforced. Gabriel had seen and experienced more violence and sadism than he cared to recall, yet he could never imagine what possessed a man to violate a woman the way Ahmed did to Nadia. Gabriel would give anything to be able to hold Leah in his arms one more time and tell her how much he loved her. He wouldn't dream of hurting his wife in any way no matter how small, yet Ahmed had no qualms about abusing his power and stature as Nadia's husband to bully her into submitting to him.

Gabriel had his orders, but he also had to save Nadia and her children. He had to. For the sake of his own wife and child that he had lost, Gabriel would save this woman and her children.

Author's Note: The characters from Nikita don't belong to me, and unfortunately Gabriel is not mine either. He belongs to Daniel Silva, but I've taken some artistic license and modified him slightly. Please review!


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